


Brethren

by runawaygypsy



Category: Only Lovers Left Alive, Tilda Swinton - Fandom, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom, Vampires - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fledgling - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-06-12 16:04:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 40,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15343455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygypsy/pseuds/runawaygypsy
Summary: This is the sequel to "Fledgling," which follows Adam & Eve's progeny Paysha and her companion Jean Louis in their search for others of their kind.





	1. Chapter 1

Though Jean Louis held her hand, he stayed exactly two steps in front of Paysha as they traversed the dusty plains. A dust storm loomed on the horizon and he was determined to take shelter somewhere, anywhere, before it hit. The winds swept around their clothing in swirls, twisting his pant legs and threatening to unwind her from the intricately folded fabric of her sari. "I think I see a hut," Jean Louis shouted.

Paysha only nodded, afraid that if she were to open her mouth facing the impending storm, she would find her tongue scoured by the rough particles of earth that she shielded the rest of her face from. She wished she'd had the foresight of Jean Louis when he'd purchased the goggles he now wore from a pilot in Kashmir, but she'd guffawed at their sight and rejected the idea as silly. Jean Louis on the other hand, looked dashing in them, and now they protected his sight and held the bandana he'd tied around his mouth and nose in perfect position.

The wind howled and Paysha blindly followed Jean Louis, trudging through the sand, acutely aware that the sand storm was upon them. She tightened her grip on his hand and felt him do the same, each aware that to lose that connection meant certain death for Paysha. Jean Louis knew if she died, he'd die with her, his heart shattered at her loss. 

Minutes felt like hours as they pushed into the winds that gained speed with each step, it seemed, until at last they reached the cabin that Jean Louis had the fortitude to spy. As he pushed the door open, careful not to let more sand in than came with them, it looked like nothing more than a lean-to, minus the structure that was meant to hold it up. "It'll have to do," he shrugged as Paysha closed the door behind herself. 

"It's alright, love," she smiled as she began unwrapping herself from dust-covered fabric, "I would rather be in here than out there." 

The structure really wasn't half bad. It was small, but it was cozy, it's hand-hewn boards giving it a rustic charm. Paysha was certain that something built with that much time and attention was sure to be sturdy enough to shelter them. She realized she was correct as the storm began bearing down upon them and the clay-filled cracks did not let through even an extra grain of sand. The winds roared and the whirlwind of dust and detritus smacked against the boards, but they did not give.

"This sure is meant to last," Jean Louis commented as he patted the wall nearest to him. "I wonder how many dust devils just like this it's weathered?"

Paysha shook her head as she knelt down next to him to make a makeshift bed out of her soiled clothes. She touched the floorboards and closed her eyes. Despite the passage of time, she still held the powers afforded to her by the events when she'd been nothing but a fledgling, though they'd softened some and ultimately she'd only held onto the telemetry. "I would say 40 years or so," she remarked as she caressed the soft wood grains. 

Jean Louis smiled softly at her, his eyes full of love and tenderness. "And it doesn't look a day over 10," he replied, "Just like you, my dear."

It sounded scandalous, but she knew what he meant and coming from the velvet voice and French accent he still possessed, it melted her. She pulled him to her and melted into his chest. "Nor you," she returned, "Though I expect we both look a mite older than 10." 

He chuckled. "As always, you are correct." Jean Louis embraced her and held her safe in his arms as he leaned his cheek on the top of her head and inhaled her scent, which was only slightly muddled by the sad collected in her scarves. "You know," he said, "We don't have to be nomads any more. The world is much more receptive to our kind, now."

Paysha lifted her head and leaned back to see him, a somber expression gracing her face. "Is it?" she wondered aloud. "Are the blood supplies clean? Are those who wish us harm dead and buried? You know what they told us."

"That we should make our own way and find a better world," Jean Louis answered. "Not live like Romani. Our elders dreamed of a better, more stable life for us."

"But where do we find it?" Tears began to well in her eyes. In reality, she despised their needing to uproot every time they began to form connections, but she could not fathom the ability to establish some sort of permanence within their existence.

Jean Louis shook his head. "I don't know, but we will find it," he soothed, his hand softly rubbing against her back. "We will find it."

They stayed in the hut through the daylight hours, curled in each others arms as added protection from whatever forces roiled in the tempest outside. When they woke, the storm was over and the sky that was previously a maelstrom of minuscule particles that scrubbed at their skin and scoured everything else was replaced by a velvet tapestry dotted with stars. Jean Louis pushed against the door with the entirety of his weight, barely managing to create an opening, and ducked his head outside, eyes closed against any presence of abrasive wind that was still present. There was nothing but still, silent air that felt refreshed. Sand was banked against the walls of the hut, some drifts as deep as his waist, others only to his shins. He shoved the door again and opened it enough to step out. 

From inside the hut, he heard Paysha call, "Is it over?"

"It is, love," he replied softly.

She emerged, the colors of her clothing standing in stark contrast to what was otherwise a bleak, monotonous landscape. She threaded her hand around his elbow and squeezed as she leaned into him. "It's almost a shame to ruin such perfection with our footsteps," she whispered. 

He nodded. "I know, but the beauty of nature is that another of those sand storms will blow through here and make it right, once again. It may even take this structure next time." He gestured toward the wall of the hut. "Even the Egyptians couldn't figure out how to defend against nature... they may have the pyramids, but even those have been worn by the sands of time and will eventually return to the desert sands they came from."

Paysha gave him a sad smile. She knew he spoke of ancient tombs, when in reality his thoughts were more of them, their kind. Even though they wandered the earth, none of their kind emerged to greet them. Years passed since their last encounter. They'd lost her beloved raccoon dog long ago, old age catching up with him when they lived in a remote village in the Tianshan Mountains in China. She remembered how happy Bisou was to live there, how he would seek out the children of the village to play and how, even in her slumber, she could hear their joyous laughter at his antics. There was not a dry eye to be found when he laid his gray-muzzled head against her leg and let out his last breath. Unlike most dogs, who would run to the wild and follow their instincts when they were close to death, Bisou was her faithful companion to the very end. 

Jean Louis' voice pulled Paysha from her reminiscing. "I think we should leave now," he said, gesturing to a line of dark spots on the eastern horizon. "Men on horses." The night was illuminated and their silhouettes sharply contrasted to the silver sand by the light of the full moon. They got closer as Jean Louis grabbed her hand and began to pull her to the far side of the shelter. He motioned for her to stay silent as he peered around the corner. He was motionless, his body resembling carved stone, while he waited. 

They both knew there was no where they could go that the men wouldn't see them and that fact kept them from trying anything rash. There was sand on all sides, perhaps a minute amount of sagebrush, but the building was the most substantial element in the vicinity. Paysha shifted on her feet and she felt Jean Louis' hand reach back and squeeze hers as if to say, "Be still." 

The men approached the hut and dismounted their horses. Paysha heard the thud of the hefty reins as they were dropped on the sand. One of the steeds whinnied and a man spoke in a language she hadn't mastered yet, but understood the gentle, "There, there," of his tone. She hoped they were civilized men, that their discovery of two travelers like themselves wouldn't provoke anything violent. 

Jean Louis tensed even more. The scent of the men was in the air and, under the cloying herbal scents of cinnamon and cloves, he smelled evil. Their sweat was heavy with it, souring the evening air with a rancid breath. He fought the urge to confront them, his desire to avoid conflict overriding his natural instinct to rip out their throats. He knew their blood would be tainted and would poison him and Paysha if either made the decision to feed. He concentrated on their words and ignored the rush of their veins. The men were thieves and murderers, chased out of the last small village he and Paysha visited by a vengeful shop keeper. The man was bludgeoned to death as they escaped. Jean Louis could smell the remnants of his blood mixed with brain tissue on one of the men's clothing.

As the band of miscreants made their way into the hut for the night, Jean Louis let out a sigh of relief. It proved to be preemptive as Paysha's hand was pulled forcefully from his and he heard her gasp in surprise. He spun around and saw one of the thieves flash a vicious smile as he pulled her around the corner. "No!" Jean Louis shouted as he followed. His path was blocked by another thief who held him at bay with a scimitar covered in the burgundy sheen of dried blood. 

"She's ours," the man growled, the point of his sword pricking Jean Louis' chest, dangerously close to his heart. Another of the band approached behind him and grasped his forearm, wrenching them behind him at an awkward angle.

In a panic, Jean Louis struggled, the scimitar blade knicking him as he wrestled away from the hands that held him. "Let her go!" he shouted, even though he knew it would do no good. Evil men like these did not care how valiant he was, they only knew what Paysha was good for, in their eyes, and that Jean Louis was expendable. He heard her scream in pain from inside the hut and it made him attempt to escape once again. "Let her go!" he repeated as he brought his foot up into the shin of the man with the sword, then repeated the motion with his other foot, hitting the man in between his legs. The man that held him let go in surprise and Jean Louis scrambled away, his feet slipping in the sand as he sprinted towards the door. 

Paysha shrieked again. He had no idea what they were doing to her, or what she was doing to them, but he worried that she would act without thought and drink her fill before realizing the blood was bad, that the men were sick. He kicked in the door and she was in the middle of the room, nude and covered in blood, a feral look in her eyes.


	2. Chapter #2

The water in the bandits' canteens was more than enough to wash the sticky, sanguine substance from Paysha's skin. Jean Louis used a corner cut from the saddle blanket of one of the horses as a washcloth and a bowl he found in one of the saddle bags as a basin and gently swabbed until the last bit of blood was gone from her skin. Paysha stood with her eyes closed the whole time. 

In her mind, she relived what she saw as an epic battle. The bandits had captured her and taken her into the hut with heinous intentions. She'd picked up on their heated desires to defile her body and then execute her, leaving her body to mummify and eventually get swallowed by the remote desert sands. She was sure they had similar plans for Jean Louis. The monsters were never aware they had captured the real creatures of the night. Once she'd fought her way out of their hungry grips, she grasped their heads one by one and twisted until she felt a satisfying snap of the spinal column. That was not enough for her, though. In the heat of battle, there was bloodlust and the need to spare the world from any more of their treachery. 

Jean Louis, upon seeing her bloodied, repeatedly asked her if she'd fed on the men, but Paysha refused to answer. She could tell he was starving for it, but had withheld himself and the feelings of guilt possessed her more than she cared to admit. She knew that he felt the truth emanating from her like heat from a furnace and it was more than her imagination and guilty conscience. His touch was gentle as he cleaned her, but after her last denial, he remained silent, not even asking her to move how he needed her to. If her arm needed to be raised, he would raise it and hold it up himself. It was because of this that the air in the hut hung heavy with tension. Paysha didn't dare say anything, knowing in her heart that any sound from her would be met with suspicious eyes and a huff of discord.

Her own clothing was in tatters, its fibers fallen victim to the daggers and insistent hands of her assailants, and the clothing of the bandits so heavily drenched in their blood that it was impossible to salvage them. She looked around at the carnage. It was a bloodbath in every sense of the word, with broken bodies tossed like so many man-sized rag dolls, their necks bent at unnatural angles, and spatters of blood drying in sticky droplets on almost every surface. Once Paysha was clean, she wrapped herself in a blanket that had been left in the hut by some previous tenant, its fabric saved from the massacre by a heavy wooden trunk that gathered dust in the corner.

She saw the telltale sign of her actions on the neck of one of the men and she caught her breath, knowing Jean Louis saw it, too. He stood in the doorway, his back to her, watching the shifting desert sands. Paysha approached and put her hand on his back. He flinched and turned to face her. With tears looming in the corners of his eyes, he whispered, "Their blood was bad." 

She couldn't face him and bowed her head down, her eyes directed to the blood stained floor. "I didn't know," she answered. The truth was that she did, though... that the minute one of the men had touched her, she knew he was diseased. 

Jean Louis pulled away from her. "Do you want to die?" he asked. "Is that what you want?" His voice picked up pace, volume and pitch. "Because if that's what you really want, then I will drink from one of the dead men and we will die here, together." 

Guilt washed over Paysha and covered her with its invisible venom. She had no idea what to say, so she mumbled, "That's not what I want." He sounded angry and it drove a stake into her heart. "I was just so hungry..." She knew she was making excuses because they had both done without for longer stretches. Hot tears overflowed from their ducts and ran down her cheeks, dripping from the point of her chin and splashing on the floor.

His hands brushed against her shoulders and his arms embraced her. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice softer than before. "I'm sorry." This time, he was the one who could find no words. All he could do was imagine not having the love of his life to hold in his arms and it made him want to keep her there, where she fit so perfectly. 

Paysha melted into him. "I'm sorry, too," she replied. "In the heat of the battle, I acted impetuously." Looking back up at him, she added, "I'm hoping I'm immune."

"Me, too, Darling," he said with a loving smile, his thick French accent only minutely noticeable as the word rolled from his tongue. "We should leave before it's light out." She nodded in agreement.

They didn't bother with burying the men or with the state of the hut. Instead, Jean Louis retrieved a box of matches from the same saddle bag the bowl was in. While Paysha mounted one of the horses, he went inside the hut. A small bottle of lamp oil, half full, sat, unused, on a shelf on the far side. He stepped gingerly over bodies and debris to get it, then opened the bottle and splashed it around as best as he could. Every dry surface inside was ignited, a total of twelve matches burned to his fingers as he lit the flames. 

Once outside, he grasped the reins of the other horses and led them away from the hut to the top of the dune where Paysha waited. She watched the slow growth of the fire as it progressed from inside, popping the glass in the single window, its yellow tongues licking the dry wooden walls on the outside. A cone of black smoke curled into the night sky. "Will anyone see it burn?" she asked, afraid that someone would alert the authorities before she and Jean Louis could make their escape.

Jean Louis shook his head. "The nearest village is miles away," he answered, "and most are sleeping, anyway." After watering the horses with another bowl and the rest of the canteens in their saddle bags, he climbed up on the back of the largest horse, his already tall frame towering above Paysha. 

They stayed to watch the hut burn for a while longer, then Jean Louis urged his horse to move, directing the creature towards the west, away from the impending glow of daybreak, hoping it would give them a few more hours before they needed to find shelter again. Jean Louis looked back to see if Paysha followed. "What are we planning on doing with these six?" she asked, motioning to the other livestock tethered to the back of his saddle. 

"Well," he sighed, "I didn't want to leave them out in the middle of nowhere because there was nothing left for them to survive on. The next village might be happy to have them." His eyes drifted from the horses behind him and locked on Paysha's gaze. "Then again, we may need them to sustain us for a while."

Paysha didn't want to think of draining the majestic creatures, but she knew he told the truth. Illness or not, they'd need to feed, Jean Louis especially soon, and the lack of a healthy supply, even lack of any supply, meant the horses would be their only providers. "Can we please at least let them live?" she asked. Her mind instantly brought up the horses of her childhood, the barn she pretty much lived in during the summer of her 11th year. It pained her to think of hurting them.

Jean Louis chuckled and smiled. "As long as we can, my love," he answered. "You can't sustain these horses on love alone, you know." She had such a big heart when it came to animals. 

"I know," Paysha said, her attempt to contain a smile a complete failure.

The desert was cool at night, which was a wonderful contrast to the scorching sun that burned during the day, and the moon was full, illuminating their path and directing them as it slowly moved toward the western horizon. They rode easily through the dunes, the horses keeping a relaxed pace and finding their footing comfortably with each step. There was an urge to hurry, but they knew that moving at too speedy of pace meant that one of the horses could slip and break a leg. If that were to happen, it would need to be put down and neither Jean Louis nor Paysha wanted to be the one to do so. 

A small village appeared on the horizon just as the moon dipped below it. Jean Louis let out a sigh of relief. As they neared the buildings, he saw that most of them were abandoned, most likely the residents driven from their homes by miscreants like the murderers they'd encountered at the hut. There was a single building through which a small tendril of smoke escaped from the chimney. "Stay out here with the horses," he told Paysha as he made his way to the clay-built building. He didn't wait for her to answer, instead stepping his way through an unkempt field of sage brush and a decrepit, sand-covered fence that looked like it was meant to keep small things in versus anything at all out. There was a weather-worn wooden door, grayed from the bleaching of the sun and barely held together by leather strapping. Leaning his ear against the boards, he listened for any sounds of life inside. He heard nothing, he felt nothing. 

Before Jean Louis got the chance to knock on the door, it opened, throwing his balance off and almost sending him stumbling over the threshold. A woman stood inside, amused and surprised at the stranger at her door. Once Jean Louis gained his composure, he looked at her and studied her as she spoke. He didn't understand her at first. She was petite, with long, silver hair that was plaited and hung halfway down her back, skin that was tanned and toughened by years of working in the sun, bright blue eyes filled with curiosity, and she was dressed in a white cotton robe that hung loosely over a body that was still fit and trim. "Hello?" she asked, her voice tinged with annoyance. "Who are you?"

He shook his head. "You speak English," he said, puzzled.

She scowled at him. "Who doesn't in this day and age?" she clucked. she stuck a bony finger at him. "Now who are you?" she demanded.

"Who are you?" he retorted, "No little old women live in abandoned villages and survive." Not only was Jean Louis uncomfortable with her confrontational demeanor, but he also doubted the circumstances under which she survived.

The woman relaxed and smiled knowingly at him. "Ah," she answered, "I think you know who I am, even if you do not know my name." Her voice lilted with an accent he didn't recognize. "My name is Inanna." She stepped further inside her home and beckoned him to follow. "This little village is abandoned by my own design. It was just remote enough where someone like me could live comfortably. It's close enough to the route most take to and from the towns and cities that I stay sated." Inanna shrugged, "I suppose you understand that."

Jean Louis nodded. "Do you mind if I go outside and bring my companion in with me?"

"You may," she replied. 

He went outside, chuckling to himself. After all this time, he thought, we found another of our kind. He imagined the delight and surprise of Paysha when he introduced them. 

The horses were semi-tethered to a part of the low fence that had fallen, their reins wrapped around the logs that once supported it. One of them whinnied as Jean Louis approached. "Paysha?" he called, looking around. "Paysha?" he yelled, wondering of she'd gone to explore. There was no answer. He called for her again as he walked to the other side of the horses. She was lying on the ground on the other side of the broken fence, her hand grasping one of the reins, her hair cascading across the sand, her eyes closed. He reached down and brushed his hand across her cheek. Her skin felt clammy and cold, a marked difference from the usual cool softness, and her pallor was nearing the hypothermic blue of someone who'd been pulled from icy water. "Oh, no!" he moaned as he scooped her into his arms, "No, no, no."


	3. Chapter #3

"She's a strong one." In the dark void that swallowed Paysha, the unfamiliar voice was a welcome tether back to the corporeal world. "It'll be touch and go for a while, but I do believe she'll pull through." She struggled to open her eyes, but her lids felt like they were held down by lead weights. Her limbs, she found, were also immobile. All she could find the strength to do was breathe, and even that was a chore. 

Jean Louis spoke, his voice covering her like a comforting blanket. "I think it's because of her blood," he surmised. Paysha had told him of her past, the experience with the Demiurge, but she'd been reluctant to allow him to drink from her, afraid that the blood would mutate and he would become a monster. Eventually, she allowed it, but the only effect of what was, at that point, diluted Demiurge serum, was that Jean Louis was able to travel in low sunlight, like an overcast day. For that reason, they still chose to travel at night, especially in the desert, but were able to enjoy the splendors of sunrise and sunset, if they so chose. 

Inside the clay hovel, it was dark, the only light emanating from the candled on the tabletop in the center of the single room. Paysha was on a small cot near the far side, closest to a clay oven inside which a fire faded to embers. Inanna and Jean Louis sat on worn wooden milking stools by her side, Inanna gently swabbing Paysha's forehead with a damp cloth, Jean Louis holding her hand. His other hand stroked her leg through the heavy blanket that laid upon it. It was an absent movement, the kind done automatically, using their touch to reassure, to communicate love. "What about her blood?" Inanna asked, her voice piercing the bubble of silence and thought that surrounded him.

He didn't want to divulge too much information. While Inanna had been kind and generous in offering her home to two wandering sanguines and she ministered to Paysha's illness as much as she was able, Jean Louis was still guarded. Experience, if anything else, had taught him that not everyone was to be immediately trusted. "She was the subject of an experiment," he answered with the hope it would satisfy the woman's curiosity.

Inanna scrunched her face and shrugged. "Whatever it was," she said, "It saved her." She put the cloth in a bowl on the floor and stood up. "It's nearly daylight, now. We should get some sleep."

Jean Louis agreed, but he didn't want to leave Paysha's side. He stood up and moved the stools from the bedside, placing them carefully near the door, then pulled a thick, straw rug that was under the table cross the floor next to her cot. It was here he laid down, curled up next to her bed, holding the hand closest to him. Upon seeing this, Inanna smiled. She gathered blankets and another rug to make a makeshift pallet, blew out the candles on the table, laid down and, once comfortable, fell easily asleep.

Sleep did not come as fast for Jean Louis, nor was it peaceful once he achieved it. His dreams were plagued by visions of losing his love, of wandering the world alone, of his own violent death. When he awoke from each one, he'd search out her hand and grasp it again, desperate to stay connected to Paysha, afraid that if he lost her hand, he would lose her forever. When, at last, evening fell, he sat up and gazed at her face. She was angelic, her skin no longer off-color and pale, instead it seemed to glow, the lines of her features looking like delicately shaped porcelain. If he hadn't known she was alive, he would have mistaken her for a doll. 

The noise of something dropping and then rolling across the floor startled him, until he turned and realized Inanna had also awakened and was attempting to restart the fire in the oven. She saw him watching him and explained, "It gets so cold for my old bones at night." She struck a match and held it inside the oval clay opening, the flame finally catching on the straw and wood she'd stacked inside.

"How long have you been awake?" Jean Louis asked, aware that she'd managed to gather items for the fire and the matches without waking him.

Inanna smiled as she put the box of matches away. "Long enough to see that you did not sleep well yourself." she made her way around the hut, taking her time as she opened the heavy curtains that hung over the open windows. "You did a bit of talking there, too," she added. "Something about a dammy urge."

A chill went down his spine. He hoped he hadn't revealed more than he wanted. "It's nothing, a nightmare," he replied. She nodded and he relaxed, somewhat reassured that she seemed to accept his explanation. "Inanna," he addressed, "How did you come to be?" The words came out differently than he'd meant and he tensed a little while he waited for an answer. 

"Well," Inanna smiled. She pulled the milking stools closer to Paysha's cot and offered him one. "I guess I'm a bit of an odd duck. No one expects an old woman to be one of the Brethren, yet, here I am."

Jean Louis nodded. "You are definitely not one I'd expect," he agreed. He wondered what she meant by the Brethren, but didn't want to interrupt her and hoped she would eventually explain it.

Her eyes laughed. "I'll tell you a secret," she whispered, though no one else would hear her, "I'm not that old."

"No!" he exclaimed.

Inanna laughed. "At least when I was turned," she went on to explain, "compared to what you'd consider old now. I was 45 years old when I fell under his spell." Her eyes wandered from Jean Louis' interested gaze to some unseen vision that appeared only to her out the window from decades before. "I had gorgeous golden locks when I met him. While I was elderly at that age, in that time, I was beautiful and looked so much younger than my counterparts. I believe that is why he was drawn to me. He was equally as beautiful, tall and lanky, dark and handsome, dressed in a black cloak with a fur-lined hood that covered everything except his face and those piercing dark eyes. We met at a dance during the Beltaine celebration in my village." She cleared her throat and continued. "Now, it was not customary for women to dance with strangers during these times, but I was revered, and I was a widow so, while some may have looked down their noses at me, everyone else turned a blind eye."

"Who was he?" Jean Louis asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

Her attention snapped back to him and she shook her head as though clearing the cobwebs from her thoughts. "I never knew his name and, for some reason, that never bothered me. All I had to do was look in his eyes and I was drawn away, floating in some ethereal space where he was my only anchor. After dancing, he appeared to me that night. He'd brought an infant, though where he procured the babe, I have no idea. I was confused, until the wild creature inside him appeared, his teeth turned into razor-sharp tools of death, his skin taut, his beautiful eyes turned blood-red. I expected that baby to scream, or at least make some sound, but it was as if it was under a spell. He smiled at me, and it was pure evil. I believed at that moment that I would be facing death. Instead, he gnashed his teeth, and then used them to rip out the throat of that poor child. I screamed and fainted, the last vision I had was of his tongue lapping at the blood as it flowed from the gash."

Jean Louis was enthralled, yet disgusted. He knew how vicious some of his own kind were, but it still turned his stomach to hear the vileness in detail. "Is that how your hair turned silver?" he asked.

Inanna shrugged. "It's possible, I suppose. I remember nothing that happened that evening, after that horrible event. When I woke up, it was the next evening. I'd slept all day and my body ached in places I had no idea existed."

"You were dying," he observed.

"Yes," she replied. "Loosing my mortal coil, you might say." She shifted on her stool and stretched her back. "It was pitch dark," she groaned as she worked her tight muscles, then relaxed. "The curtains were drawn across the windows of my tiny bungalow, but I could see. I stood up, ignoring the pain, and pulled the heavy sack cloth away, hoping it was daylight, but it wasn't. The sun was just setting and when I wiggled my fingers in the last ray of it on my sill, it burned. I pulled them back and watched as the smoke rose from them, but just as the smoke began to dissipate, so did the pain. I could see that I was alone, and there was no indication of the events of the previous night. Without the proof of the pain in my body, followed by an insatiable hunger, I might have thought I was dreaming, or suffering from some sort of delirium." 

He put his hand on hers as it rested on her knee. The energy that flowed from her climbed into his mind on wispy tendrils of electricity and he could see what she saw, feel what she felt, smell what she smelled - the black putridity of burnt hair and flesh as it began to waft through the open window. He inhaled a sharp breath as he pulled his hand away, his skin felt burned. "What was that smoke?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "My village," she answered, her voice a thin shadow of its former self. "He massacred and burned my people, my family." A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it off with a swipe of her finger. "I found the bonfire he'd laid them on, piled among the timber of their homes and belongings. He was there, in the shadows, watching and waiting for me." Lost again in her own world, her attention shifted back to him, her eyes embodying desperation and defeat. "I didn't want to go with him, but he had me under his spell."

Jean Louis wasn't sure what to say. His first instinct was to comfort her, but he was stopped by his own curiosity. "What was the Brethren?" he blurted, instantly aware of his insensitivity.

It was enough to pull Inanna from the tragic memories and back into the present. She shook her head and smiled. "I'm so glad you asked," she said, relieved. "Once I escaped him, I found a community, high up in the mountains. The others found me, just as I'd run out of hope and prayed death would take me from this earth."

"Others?" he wondered aloud. "You mean like us?"

Inanna nodded. "Yes, others like us," she replied. "They took me in, showed me a life where I could live in peace and not terrorize innocents, unlike my progenitor. With him, the hunt was the essence of his hunger. The more of a fight his prey put up, the more enthralled he was. The Brethren fed only on those who passed through in the cover of darkness, which, more often than not, was someone of the more unsavory type. We were few and wished only to be around others were of like mind, so the only time another was added to our troupe was by chance, like I was."

He wanted to ask her more, to hear more stories of this tribe she described, but before he had the chance, he felt Paysha squeeze his hand. It made him gasp and his attention was stolen by her. "Darling?" he chanced, hoping in his heart of hearts that she was awakening.

Paysha's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, she couldn't focus, but when she did, there was her beloved Jean Louis, ever faithful by her side. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice escaping in a dry whisper.

Jean Louis smiled at her, overcome with a warmth and a gladness that she'd pulled through. "It's alright, darling," he cooed as he leaned in and kissed her softly. "You're alive. That's all that counts, now."


	4. Chapter #4

Paysha's eyes fluttered open. Her vision took time to adjust to the dark, smoky room. She drew in a deep breath and smelled the sweet, acid scent of incense before she saw the detail of it's smoldering tendrils as they wafted around her head. A shadow to her side transformed into features she recognized, though her mind, normally whip-smart, was as hazy as the incense smoke. He smiled as she gazed at him, his eyes full of warmth and love. "Welcome back, gorgeous," he whispered as he leaned in and laid a gentle kiss on her cheek.

Jean Louis, she thought, it's my love, Jean Louis. She wanted to speak, to say his beautiful name and feel it roll through her mouth like melted chocolate, but her tongue felt like lead and, even though she could open her mouth, nothing came out except a low hum. Frustrated, she furrowed her brow and tried again. "Jjjj," was all she could manage. Even her lips wouldn't cooperate and help her form words.

"Shhh," he hushed as he placed his index finger against her lips. "You've had quite the ordeal and haven't regained your strength back yet." His fingers tangled into her hair and brushed through it in a gentle motion that comforted her. She knew everything would be alright on that action alone. Jean Louis leaned close and she could smell his scent, musky and warm, on the flesh of his neck, and she could hear the thrum of blood in his veins. He kissed her forehead, a protective kiss meant to reassure her. She felt the urge to close her eyes and pierce his soft flesh, just to have the sweet nectar contained therein wash over her tongue, but she knew the inherent danger that existed in doing so and only sighed when he sat back up and chuckled. "I see your appetite has not suffered." He watched her tongue dart out between her lips and then lick the tips of her canine teeth. "I do have something for you," he smiled as he reached behind himself.

The excitement showed on her face a Paysha watched Jean Louis pull a large clay bowl filled to the brim with sanguine sustenance, so much so that droplets threatened to overflow and plop on the clay floor. "Yes," she hissed, her animal instincts again taking over. She reached for the bowl and was surprised by the cane of a broomstick handle that came down swiftly across the backs of her greedy arms.

"Not so fast," a stern voice reprimanded. "You'll make yourself sick again." 

Paysha's eyes followed the broom upwards to the woman in possession of it. "Who... who are you?" she stammered. "How did I get... here?"

The woman smiled. "My name's Inanna," she replied, her voice warm and soft. "You sickened yourself on bad blood outside and you are in my home and, according to Jean Louis, have some wonderful survival skills." 

Jean Louis nodded. "I told her about your trials," he said as he sat the bowl on his knee, then leaned close and whispered, "She doesn't know everything."

"What?" Paysha sat bolt upright on the cot, ignoring his last statement. "What if she is like the others?" Her voice picked up in volume and transformed from the invalid, tender tone to one of anger and disappointment. "How could you tell her?" Her brows were knit and her eyes filled with tears as she looked at Jean Louis with concern. "Why?"

He shook his head. "She's not like that," he explained. "She's much older than you or I and she might be our key to finding others." He lifted the bowl up and brought it close to her lips. "Now, don't work yourself into a frenzy, Darling. You are still ill and you need to drink to finish ridding yourself of the toxins."

Paysha closed her eyes and inhaled the scent that emanated from the bowl - a mixture of iron and sweet coated every scent receptor and she felt her eyes dilate. Her tongue reached from between her lips into the liquid, still warm, but cooling faster than she wanted it to. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes and Jean Louis lifted the bowl to follow, allowing the substance to run into her mouth and down her parched throat. It was ambrosial, a manna that she not only craved, but that she knew would save her. It tasted like Heaven - sweet, clean, thick - as it coated every surface it touched. She could almost hear it as it trickled through her and let out a tiny titter at the sudden thought of it becoming effervescent. Once the bowl was empty, Paysha sighed, then let out a moan of pleasure before opening her eyes. "That was divine," she smiled, turning her attention to Inanna. "Where did you find it?"

"There are travelers here, from time to time," Inanna answered. Her own smile warmed Paysha's soul. "Some are detestable scoundrels, like the gaggle you ran into," she explained, "But others are peaceful, Pilgrims on their way to a Holy Land. The other huts in the oasis are desirable quarters for an overnight stay and are well known to adventurer and nomad, alike."

Jean Louis continued. "We didn't drain them all and leave them for dead," he placed the empty bowl that he still held onto the table top with a sharp thud. "Inanna glamoured them, we took what we needed, and they fell asleep none the wiser."

"I'm impressed," Paysha chuckled. "Eve told me that most of our kind had lost that talent long ago. Too many fell upon relying on the effects of intoxicating substances and the element of surprise."

Inanna shrugged. "That is not really a choice, here," she said, "Besides, I've been on this earth long enough to have perfected my glamouring."

"How old are you?" Paysha asked, her curiosity piqued.

"My darling..." Jean Louis tried to interject.

Inanna traversed the round of the table and knelt down next to Paysha's cot. "It's alright, Jean Louis," she said as she touched his shoulder, much as a mother would do to reassure a child. "The adage of never asking a woman her age is moot when we're talking about our kind. Besides, I have no problem admitting that I have no idea how old I am, exactly. Centuries, I suppose, give or take a decade or two." She "Child," she explained, "I am ageless, though I pride myself on not looking a day over my age when I was transformed." She winked and grinned at her own humor. "Just as you will be forever your age, and Jean Louis static in his own. While our souls may mature to a wiseness of ages, our bodies will never wither nor fade."

"Unless we have bad blood," Paysha mumbled.

"Even then," Inanna shook her head, "You've proven that, even then, imminent death is but a layover in our immortality." 

The idea was new and different. Paysha pondered it, her eyebrows knit in a quizzical expression, before responding. "Am I an antidote?" she asked.

Jean Louis knelt next to Inanna. He grasped her hand and held the back of it to his cheek. "Yes," he answered, "My Darling, you are the cure to what ails our kind."

"Your blood," Inanna said, "Contains magical properties that I do not understand. Your love knows more than he tells, which is beneficial to your continued existence. I would hate for that information to fall into the wrong hands. On the other hand, I do hope that, eventually, you will let me in on the secret that may be pertinent to our survival."

Paysha took a deep breath and eased herself back down on the cot, lying prone with her eyes on Jean Louis. "If only there were more of our kind," she sighed. "We've looked for so long and you are the only one we've found for ages, Inanna." She closed her eyes, the heaviness of sleep draping itself across her eyelids. "We started to think we were all that was left." 

Inanna shook her head, realizing only after the fact that Paysha couldn't see her. "But there are more, so many more," she whispered. "Both good and evil reside in the alcoves and shadows of our world. Chances are, you've seen them, but not felt them, or that they've seen you and remained hidden."

"Tell me about them," Paysha yawned. "I want to know who they are."

"The beneficent of our kind call themselves The Brethren," Inanna explained as she adjusted herself more comfortably on the floor. "When I left them, they lived in the most remote area of Asia, in the ruins of a temple that was thousands of years old. They may still reside there."

Jean Louis was as enthralled as he imagined Paysha would be, if she was not half asleep. "Why wouldn't they?" he asked.

She smiled sadly and lowered her chin. "If anything threatened them, they would leave to save themselves." She sighed. "It has happened before, back when I was a prisoner to my progenitor. He discovered them and attempted to pit them against each other so he could find the strongest and form an army."

"Why did he need an army?" Jean Louis asked, incredulous. "How many enemies did he have?"

Inanna sniggered at his innocence. "Oh, he had enemies," she replied, "But what he really wanted was power. At that juncture in time, the world was in turmoil, both physically and spiritually. He had the idea that, if he could conquer the greatest of the human armies, the mortals would see him and revere him as a god. The ultimate goal was to enslave them and claim the rights of the earth for our kind, or rather, his kind. 

"When we came upon The Brethren, they resided deep in the forests of what is now Scandinavia. Many of them were aged and wizened beyond their mortal years, much like I am now, and others had the strength of dozens of oxen. The rest, well, my Master deemed to be too weak to be of any use because they were too new to our kind, or too young when they'd turned. He began rounding them up and slaughtering them for the only thing he deemed worthy enough of service - their blood. Where their numbers were in the thousands before, their numbers were diminished to hundreds once he was done. Some of the younger kind were smart and nimble enough to escape into the trees and hide themselves, but the only ones that survived in the village were those he deemed worthy enough." A tear rolled down her cheek as she looked back up to Jean Louis. "I hated what he made me do, but I was too new to control my own power. The Brethren eventually forgave me, after I escaped my Master's stronghold on me, but I never forgave myself for those lives I took."

A soft, contented murmur escaped between Paysha's lips and drew their attention from the conversation. She shifted in her sleep and relaxed into slumber. "The sun will be up soon," Jean Paul observed as he glanced out the window at the band of color and light that glowed on the eastern horizon. "We should get some rest, ourselves."

Inanna pushed herself up to her knees and used the table to pull herself up to stand. "We should," she agreed. "Do you plan to sleep next to her again?" she asked, gesturing to the makeshift pallet that was tucked under Paysha's cot. "You can take one of the guest villas, if you'd like. Only one is taken."

He shook his head. "I'll stay here," he answered. "I want her to know I am here when she wakes up again." He pulled the bedding out from under the cot and laid down as he made himself comfortable.

"Suit yourself." She blew out the candle on the table, then closed the curtains on the windows to keep out the impending daylight before ambling through a door that was covered with another heavy drapery into her own sleeping quarters.


	5. Chapter #5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter for a couple weeks as I will be gone on vacation ;) I will resume it when I'm back, though!

There was no further discussion about The Brethren. Both Paysha and Jean Louis felt the pain it caused Inanna, saw the tears in her eyes when they asked a question regarding her long lost tribe. She humored them, of course, for the sake of Paysha's healing and to keep her refuge from becoming uncomfortable for them, but she disclosed little about the others and how they lived, until her newfound companions got the gist. It didn't take long before they all understood that each held secrets that should not, could not be disclosed to one another without dire consequences. Once that understanding was reached, conversation turned towards the mundane, for the most part. Payha, ever curious, often engaged her elder in educational lectures regarding abilities and endowments that she possessed and which Paysha either lacked or was never taught.

"Inanna," Paysha asked once she'd regained most of her strength back, "Would you be willing to show me how to glamour?" It was a talent Eve never has the chance to show her and, while she was curious about it already, once they met Inanna and found her talent, it stoked her interest even more. Paysha was careful to never mention Eve, for fear that even that disclosure would somehow end in tragedy for her benefactors.

Smiling, Inanna replied, "I would be glad to, however, it will take so much more time than you have here, if you wish to continue your journey with any semblance of an actual schedule." 

It was an opportunity of a lifetime, but Paysha knew that it was not only her decision. Jean Louis was depending on her healing to continue their travels and their quest to find more of their kind. As wonderful as it was to find Inanna, they knew she was not the be-all-end-all of the sanguine world. "I'll have to ask My Love," Paysha sighed. "He has plans for our future, for our journey, that I would hate to disrupt."

"Disrupt what?" Jean Louis's low voice boomed through the open window from his seat outside. He'd drawn the short straw to watch for new blood as evening fell. There had been fewer pilgrims than was normal, according to Inanna, and that worried them.

Paysha's answer lilted in laughter. "You sure are nosy," she teased. "I was asking Inanna if she would teach me to glamour."

He stood up and peeked through the open round of the window. "That could be useful."

"Except, if she teaches me, we'll be here for a while." She wasn't sure what she expected, but it wasn't the nonchalant reply she received.

"And?" Jean Louis's question hung in the air with a pregnant pause like he half expected her to try and justify why they couldn't stay.

Instead, the pause was interrupted by the trill of Inanna's voice. "That settles it, then," she said. "I shall teach you, but," she waggled a finger at Paysha, "Don't you expect it to be easy, especially with a lack of mortals to practice on."

A feeling of triumph swelled in Paysha's chest. "Oh thank you!" she exclaimed as she stood from her cot and leaped towards Inanna's approaching form. 

Inanna chuckled. "You will be my most challenging student yet, won't you?" 

Paysha threw her arms around Inanna's neck and twirled the two of them around. "I'll be good," she said. "I promise."

Their joy was interrupted by the sound of horse hooves thudding and muffled by the sand in the distance. "I should watch and see who comes," Jean Louis said as he closed the curtains and resumed his post outside.

As she let go of Inanna, Paysha whispered, "I'm not sure I feel so good about this visit." She didn't elaborate, but there was a heaviness in the air that came with the sound, and it settled on her like a wet down blanket. Her sense were subdued, but they were still sharp enough to detect some sort of malfeasance. "Whoever is approaching are not good men."

Inanna nodded and began to blow out the various candles around the room. "Come with me," she directed as she ducked through the curtain into the shadows of the bedroom. "We'll be safe in here."

"What about Jean Louis?" Paysha started to panic. "He's out there alone and defenseless." She could only imagine his helplessness when they'd been overtaken by the bandits. Her instinct was to run outside and help him, but she knew she would be no use to him in her current state for, while she was close to being completely recovered, she was still weak enough to be a liability. Instead, she shouted his name out the window, hoping he would seek shelter with them inside. There was no answer and no one came through the door as she waited. "Jean Louis," she called again. There was nothing.

The footfalls of the horses stopped in front of the dwelling and their snorts and whinnies filled the immediate silence as their riders tethered them to the low wall. "Please leave," Jean Louis commanded as they approached the building where he sought refuge at their approach. "This is no place for you."

As he emerged from the hovel, he observed the intruders with keen eyes. There were three, all men, all dressed in the requisite robes and headdress of desert nomads, traders and traitors alike. Their faces were grizzled, etched with lines from too much sun and desert sands, their eyes steely and devoid of human emotion. One of the brandished a scabbard in his right hand, holding its curved blade at a menacing angle. The other two crumpled their hands into fists. While they both also had access to weapons in their hilts, their preferred armament looked to be of the pugilistic type. 

Jean Louis heard Paysha call his name as they stepped closer and hoped they didn't hear him. The tension in the air was palpable, even the horses silenced as the marauders approached. They showed no sign that they'd heard her sweet voice. "Please leave," he repeated, knowing there was nowhere to escape to. The villa offered no protection, its small form barely more than a shelter and its contents invariably flammable enough that all they'd need to do was light the straw at the entrance on fire and the whole thing would become an oven.

The man who seemed to be the leader dropped his sword and smiled. It was disingenuous, snide with a hint of malice. "You mistake our motives," he slithered, "We require but a place to bed down for the night, perhaps a stiff drink." As if he wanted to seem less threatening, he lowered his weapon and sheathed it at his hip. "Friends, okay?"

Inside Inanna's hut, Paysha could hear everything. She sat on her cot, knees gathered to her chest, blankets pulled around herself as though they could make her invisible. "There's nothing for you here," she heard Jean Louis say. 

"I see several buildings," the man replied, "Surely you can spare just one."

"There's nothing here for you," Jean Louis repeated. 

Paysha heard a scuffle and willed herself not to get up and look through the window. She did not want to give herself away. "Let us stay, or we will take your villa as our lodging," the leader snarled. "And maybe we'll take that sweet young thing we heard call you earlier."

Jean Louis tried to yell, "No!" but his face was covered by the filthy hand of one of the cronies. He struggled to pull away, but was held fast by the strength of two men and the tip of the scabbard held to his throat.

The man with the sword gnarled, his eyes narrowed on their captive. He could see Jean Louis's fear and capitalized on it. "I think she'd like what she gets from me," he whispered gruffly, his mouth close to Jean Louis's face. "I bet she'd really enjoy it." The tip of his sword nicked the skin over his captive's Adams Apple and caused a small trickle of blood. "Keep that in mind if you decide to play the hero."

Paysha tried to will herself to blend into her surroundings, hoping the men would mistake her for a pile of unwashed linens. She slowed her breathing down and covered all but a single eye. Her last thought before the door was pulverized was of Inanna. The woman was silent for the entire ordeal and Paysha wasn't sure she was even still inside, but she wished Inanna would not reveal her location. 

The leader entered the villa and rifled his way around in the dark until he found the box of matches Inanna left on the shelf on the wall above the oven. He lit the closest candle he felt and used its light to find more to light. "This is cozy," he said to no one in particular. "It definitely has a homey feel."

Holding her breath, Paysha hoped she could hold herself still enough that she wouldn't tremble. Hiding from the marauders in the dark was less of a chore than in full light, even when that light was candle light. She thought she felt the heat of his stare on her, but she kept motionless.

"You can't hide from me," the man chuckled. "I see you there, princess." He used the tip of his scabbard to lift the blanket from Paysha's head and uncover her. "I knew you were there."

She felt the hostility in his demeanor, the malevolence in his voice. "What have you done with Jean Louis?" she asked, her eyes drawn to the bloody tip of his sword.

The villain laughed, menace dripping from his amusement. He held up the sword. "You see his blood, do you? he asked. "I sliced him. Why, he'll be drawn and quartered before long." The fright he invoked in Paysha's eyes gave him more fuel. "But you won't care, once I've had my way with you." He let his scabbard down and aimed its point directly over her heart. "Now be a nice girl and remove that pretty skirt of yours." He used the sword to rip into her bodice and slice down until he saw her navel. Her top fell open, exposing her bare breasts. Once again, the point of the sword aimed at her heart.

Paysha wasn't afraid of him. She was terrified of what would happen if she let her animal self loose, once again. By the way she'd heard Jean Louis speak to them, she knew he was scared of that outcome as well. Thinking of him put a lump in her throat. She knew the leader was lying about slaughtering her beloved because she could still feel his presence and it was not weak. It was small consolation to know that he was not mortally wounded, but she still feared for him and for herself. "No," she said, daring to defy him. "I will not." She pulled the blanket around her once again and covered herself. 

Fire burned in his eyes. He pressed the tip of the scabbard into her flesh, just enough pressure to incite a little pain. "It would be a shame to ruin that perfect body of yours before I've had a chance to enjoy it, wouldn't it?" he simpered with faux concern.

A loud crash came from outside that drew both their attention towards the portal where the decimated door stood. It was followed by another, and then another. The horses whinnied, spooked by something just outside Paysha's line of vision. She took the opportunity of her captor's lost attention to scream. "Help! Jean Louis!" she yelled, hoping to give him the strength to fight back.

A shadow emerged from the darkness. As the figure entered the dimly-lit hut, Paysha could barely make out the features of her beloved. He was covered in blood, his entire wardrobe soaked, his skin nearly black with the sticky substance that was now drying in the evening desert air. "I asked you nicely to leave," he growled at the man whose jaw was dropped and whose eyes were wide with fright. "Now you face the consequences."

The villain tried to speak, but all that emanated from his mouth was incoherent babbling. He dropped his scabbard with a clank as it hit the milking stool next to him and a thud once it met the dirt floor. His entirety was trembling as he backed away from Paysha and sidled past Jean Louis. As he attempted to escape through the door, he was waylaid. In a flash, Jean Louis picked up the scabbard and impaled the man on it, through the throat. Blood gushed through the open doorway, pooling in the sand and looking the consistency of pudding as it began to clot. A choking sound came from his mouth, gagging on the fluids as they escaped, and his body twitched as each muscle contracted and then released in defeat.

Jean Louis threw the weapon and the attached corpse and flew to Paysha's side. "Are you alright, my darling?" he asked. "Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine. A little shaken," she answered. "But you... did you drink?"

"No," he replied, "They had bad blood. All I did was defend myself and use an old fence post to do it." He picked up a rag from Paysha's feet and began to wipe himself off. "Guess it'll take more than this to clean up, wont' it?" he joked as he dropped it to the floor. Looking around, he asked, "Where's Inanna?"

As though her name was a summoning spell, Inanna appeared in the doorway to the bedroom. "I'm right here," she huffed. Her eyes were drawn towards the carnage in her home. "I've never seen it so bad here," she sighed. "I've never had to kill anyone here, ever." She picked up the other milk stool, overturned by the bandit, and set it upright. "This was my home. For so long, my home."

"It still is," Paysha interjected. "We'll help you clean it and it'll be as good as new."

A look of desperation clouded her eyes. "You don't understand," she said, "There's nowhere to bury these monsters. The sands are unforgiving to a shovel. All we can do is burn it and move on." Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks.

Jean Louis wanted to say something, anything, but he knew he couldn't change her decision. She knew the desert far better than they did. Instead of arguing, he asked, "Where can we go, now?"


	6. Chapter #6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been a while... to be fair, I have been gone for a while for personal reasons (got married!) and then super busy at work. Hoping to finish this whole thing before the end of the year.

Even in the cover of the cool desert darkness, the sands felt like billions of tiny, red-hot razor blades that scoured their feet and chafed their exposed skin when the winds whipped up. There was nowhere to escape in the desolate land - no villages, no solitary huts, no caves carved in sandstone in the side of an arid rock formation. It was more barren than Jean Louis and Paysha expected, despite Inanna's warnings, and they struggled against what proved to be an unforgiving territory.

Inanna trudged ahead, the only one of the trio acclimated to such hardships, mute in her endeavors. Her silence began when they set fire to her home and continued as they left the inferno, its flames licking the ebony sky behind them. She remained in her own head, processing the trauma of leaving the place she'd established herself in, that she'd imagined she could live forever, or as long as her immortal life lasted. Her life had seen worse trauma, but she was younger then, and more optimistic. This trial felt like an eternity formed into a spear that stabbed into the essence of her being and she was certain the years she'd lived a carefree existence appeared as lines along her youthful face, wizening her beyond her mortal years.

In what seemed like a silent pact, the three trudged on, each drop of optimism of escape from what was hell on earth evaporating step by step. The outer rays of the sun began to pierce the horizon, vibrant orange piercing the violet blue of the early morning sky, outlining the dunes of golden sands that went on for infinity. "We need to find somewhere to rest," Paysha sighed, her own exhaustion taking a backseat only to her survival instinct. "Sunrise is beginning."

Jean Louis fell to his knees. "There's nowhere," he groaned, "Best to try and bury ourselves." He began to dig his fingers into the sand, his efforts denied by the dry grains as they flowed back around his hands and refilled the area he'd removed them from, leaving only a slight divot. It didn't deter him from continuing. 

Paysha watched him for a moment, her heart sank for his desperate attempt, then looked up an scanned the horizon for anything they could utilize. It looked desolate and barren, a wasteland from which they had little hope to escape, until a glint on the periphery of her vision caught her eye. The darkness was enough that Paysha knew she didn't see a mirage, the fact that her sight was too keen for optical illusions, notwithstanding. Whatever the object was, it did not move. The light was stationary and seemed to be the reflection of the rising sun. It was distant, but not so far that it was hopeless. They could make the trek in the precious time that was left before the sun was completely up and the rays immolated them. 

Whatever the illumination was, it caught Inanna's attention as well. She looked haggard as she shot Paysha a knowing glance and smiled. She nodded when Paysha asked, "Did you see it, too?" 

The light wavered and blinked out, but not before Inanna began to run, her feet carrying her weightlessly across the sands, toward where they saw it. Jean Louis, distracted from his desperate attempt at creating shelter, watched as she disappeared over a dune. He stood and joined Paysha where she stood, a quizzical look on his face as she grasped his hand and began to pull him with her and follow Inanna. "Where are we going?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

There was no explanation. They moved faster, their feet picking up speed until they were flying over the desert landscape. The sand lost all semblance of individual grains and melded into a whirl of browns and yellows, shadow and light reflected from the tendrils of sun rays that threatened to overtake them soon. They reached the same dune Inanna disappeared over and saw that she was a distant dot on the horizon before her form completely disappeared from view again. "We need to hurry," Paysha huffed as she pulled her love along. She was impatient for good reason.

The gravity of the situation pressed upon Jean Louis, perhaps more so than the insanity of running towards the sunrise, and he increased his own speed, not only catching up with Paysha, but threatening to overtake her. He would not pass her, though. Whatever they were to do, wherever they were headed, was together. For all he knew, they were headed not towards shelter, but to the sun's certain death. As frantic as he was to save them and escape a final death, he accepted whatever their fate as long as he was with her.

In a matter of minutes, they slowed to a stop. They were not out of breath, but the fatigue of their hurried travel was evident in their limbs - muscles ached and begged for reprieve, the soles of their feet were raw from the grit of the sand - and they were starving. They did not feed before abandoning Inanna's abode and there were no encounters with other travelers as they fled. Weary, they walked the few steps required to reach their intended destination and collapsed on the ground.

Inanna stood before them, her back to them. Beyond her was a caravan, its dirty fabric tents erected with rudimentary poles, of which, upon the first one, hung a silver gilded mirror. "We found it," she announced, her voice nothing more than a fierce whisper that carried away into the dune to be muffled by the sand. "We found it!" She turned towards her friends and bade them to rise. "Let's eat," she said. "This camp is clean and safe."

Neither Jean Louis or Paysha questioned her. They had no inkling of how she knew, but they knew they could trust her and they rose from the ground and followed her through the first flap. Inside was a family - father, mother, children, grandmother - all sleeping soundly. Inanna hovered over the patriarch of the family as her companions watched. She leaned down, her small frame nearly dwarfed by the hulk of the man she intended to feed from, and pressed her lips against his neck. The man stirred in his sleep and groaned, his arm stretched out to cover the reposed torso of his wife, but he did not awaken. The process was delicate and deliberate and took a matter of seconds before it was over. 

Once again following Inanna's lead, Paysha approached the grandmother's sleeping frame, while Jean Louis tiptoed to the mother as she snuggled into her husband. They repeated the action, each sipping the warm, sanguine liquid from their intended founts in silence. As the blood filled their mouths and ran in streams down their throats, they felt renewed. The family did not awaken from their ordeal and still slumbered soundly as the trio left their tent - the only indication they would find that anything happened during their sleep would be the marks on their necks that would itch and be mistaken for insect bites.

The sun was almost above the horizon when they went outside and the trio was saved only by the shade provided by the tents. "Where will we go, now?" Paysha asked Inanna, her hope that the older woman would provide some guidance.

Inanna shook her head. "I'm not sure there is anywhere to go," she sighed. "This caravan will move on and there will be no shelter, once it does."

Paysha took a deep breath. She stamped her foot on the ground and, in a not-so-quiet voice, announced, "Than we will move with it."

"Shhh," Jean Louis hushed as he attempted to pull her close, "You don't want to wake them." He was suspicious of the tribe and their feelings toward strangers. "What if they drive us away? The sun will surely kill us," he worried. His face crumpled in angst.

A noise from inside the tent told them it was too late to leave. At least one of the tent's occupants stirred and they could hear the telltale crunch of mortal feet on the rugs of the dwelling as it rubbed against the sand underneath. The noise was one that human ears could not discern, so the others inside remained unaware. The footsteps moved from one side of the tent to the other until the flap at the entrance fluttered. A small girl, no more than six years of age, emerged. She squinted at the sunlight, its illumination too bright for her newly-wakened eyes, stretched her arms out and yawned. She was dressed in a brightly colored robe, her hair wild and unkempt from the night's sleep. A few steps away from the dwelling and she spied the trio in her periphery. Unalarmed, she approached. "Who are you?" she asked in Tamazeght. 

Neither Paysha or Jean Louis was familiar with the language, but Inanna recognized it. She stepped closer and knelt down so she was eye level with the girl. "We are friends," she answered, a warm smile overtaking her face. "What is your name?"

The girl returned the smile with a shy grin of her own. "Halimah," she answered. She turned her eyes towards the ground and clasped her hands behind her. "Why are you here?"

"We are nomads, like you," Inanna chuckled. "Can you wake your father?"

Halimah nodded her head and ran back into the tent without a word. They could hear her inside attempting to rouse the man inside.

Ever cautious, Jean Louis retreated and cowered beside the far corner of the tent. He beckoned Paysha to join him, but she shook her head and joined Inanna at her side to wait for Halimah to return. The anticipation was palatable as they saw the shadow the the little girl inside, followed by the hulking frame of the man, and heard their discourse. Though Paysha did not understand the dialect, she understood the intonation. He was annoyed, but patient and his daughter was talking too fast in her excitement. 

When they emerged from the dwelling and approached the trio, Inanna turned her eyes down and bade Paysha to do the same. It was customary, out of reverence, for strangers to demure, especially when they were women and addressing the man of the house. In a perfect imitation of their language, Inanna addressed him. "Please, sir, may I ask you for a place that my friends and I may have refuge from the sun and lay our heads for a while?" she asked.

The man's attention went from her downturned face, to Paysha's, to Jean Louis as he watched, wide-eyed, from the far end of the tent, to Halima's sweet, upturned face, back to Inanna. He answered and nodded his head, then turned from them and began walking only to beckon them to follow. He went into the sun.

"We cannot go into the sun," Inanna said as she shoved her arm into the nearest painful beam of light and allowed it to burn her arm.

He nodded in understanding and ducked into the tent only to emerge moments later, his arms laden with skins and thickly woven blankets. He handed them to Inanna, who took one and passed the remainder to Paysha and Jean Louis. The trio wrapped themselves with the coverings and took great care to shade their faces before following the man. "Thank you," Inanna said as they walked. She knew they were with good people. 

While they walked, the man explained to Inanna that they would be moving on soon. He offered them the shelter of a tent on the outskirts of the encampment, but warned that they would be responsible for its tear-down and to build it back up when they set up camp in a new place. The camels and horses that mulled around the dwellings were responsible for bearing the weight of transport, he told her. 

They arrived at their assigned living quarters and thanked the man before he left. Halima followed him, her curiosity almost strong enough to stay behind and quiz them. Her father's strong hand and admonition were enough to encourage her to leave them alone. "I'm exhausted," Paysha said as she opened the tent. Her companions agreed. Jean Louis followed her inside, but Inanna stayed behind to take more stock of their surroundings.

Far beyond to the northeast of the Bedouin village, the jagged peaks of a small mountain range loomed, the distant landscape alien to the barrens they were accustomed to seeing. Inanna was unaware of the direction they trekked at night, instead she focused her energy on finding somewhere, anywhere, to escape the sun when it rose. They intended to trek north and then west into Egypt, but the range confirmed her suspicions. They'd gone further inland and to the east, in fact she was certain that the mountains she looked at were the Tibesti range. With a sigh, she, too, ducked inside the dwelling.

Jean Louis and Paysha were already sound asleep, wrapped in each others' arms on a pallet of animal hides and straw. The rest of the tent was sparsely furnished with heavy carpets on the floor and another pallet on the side opposite her companions. Here, Inanna felt the sweet call of sleep as she laid down and drifted into the pillowy darkness of slumber.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. There have been a few personal things I've taken care of and this chapter was a hard one to write. Hoping to get the next one done sooner than this one was :)

The evening fell, the blistering desert heat fell with it. Though they slept well, Jean Louis and Paysha awoke in a pool of sweat, their bedding stained a shade of rust from their secretions and their hair drenched and matted against their cool flesh. The air inside the tent was thick, heavy with the fever of the day, and eerily silent. 

Paysha sat up and scanned their dwelling as she strained to hear any noise from outside. Inanna was absent from her pallet and the only noises Paysha could hear came from her own pumping heart and Jean Louis's rhythmic breath. She swung her legs over the side of their bed and stood up, her limbs extending into a satisfying stretch. "It's so quiet," she whispered. Before Jean Louis could protest, she was at the door of the dwelling, folding the flap back with a gentle gesture. "I'm going to see where Inanna is." 

Jean Louis watched Paysha leave before rising from the bed, himself. He joined her outside, standing next to her and grasping her hand as she gazed at the village. It was silent, sleepy, the only movement evident was that of the livestock. "Everything looks alright," he said as he nuzzled her matted hair. "Did you see Inanna?"

"No," Paysha answered. "I'm sure she went to meditate or something like that." She turned towards Jean Louis and embraced him. He tightened his arms around her and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "No matter where we are," she whispered, "You are my home."

They saw the spark of a fire in the distance, closer to the rest of the transient village. "Should we go mingle?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'd like to get to know them better," she replied as he unwrapped her from his arms. "And not just as food."

He chuckled, "You'd make a pet of one of them just as surely as another mongrel." He chided, but saw the hurt in her eyes and retreated. "I'm sorry, you miss him, still."

Paysha shook her head and began walking away. "I do." He hit a tender spot in her heart, a scar that would never fully heal. Bisou was her spirit animal, had she been a witch, her familiar.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice trembling with regret. She heard, but continued her retreat from him, towards the caravan. "Paysha..." he called, hoping she'd return to him, or at least pay attention, but it was no use. Jean Louis stood in the sand and watched her disappear behind one of the tents before finally following.

Their arguments, though few and far between, were gaining momentum and seemed to happen more and more often, Paysha thought. It worried her, these little spats, because they tackled so many obstacles to be together, but each one of the little digs became a brick in her wall, each one a chink in the armor that held their hearts together. She was afraid that, one day, they'd tire of each other, their love turned sour, their lives resolved to an eternity in complete isolation. It was only a matter of time, if they left things as they were. The hope was that they'd find community, that their solidarity with each other would be expanded to include others of their own kind. To Paysha, they had cabin fever, except their cabin included the expanse of their travels.

The Bedouin men were sitting around a roaring fire, their women tended what was to be their evening meal. The smells did not whet Paysha's appetite, but the sights and sounds did. She saw Inanna there, sitting and conversing with the father who showed then so much hospitality, and his daughter, Halimah. She saw her companion approach and stood to greet her. "They've been telling me tales of their people," she beamed, "Such a rich and ancient culture!"

Paysha bowed towards the father and smiled at Halimah. "I do wish I knew their language," she sighed to Inanna as she accepted the father's pat on the ground as an invitation to sit. "I feel so lost."

Inanna shook her head and frowned. "You're not lost, child," she said as she took her seat next to Paysha. "In time, you can learn. Remember, I've lived in this desert for decades and many of the travelers that sought shelter in my huts were Bedouin. I was able to comprehend as much as you are now, but I learned."

"Did you have a teacher?" Paysha wondered. 

"No, my dear," Inanna laughed. "Necessity is the mother of invention. I learned the hard way, through gesture and repetition." She scooped her hand into the sand and presented it to Paysha. "Raml," she said before letting the grains fall through her fingers.

Paysha repeated and heard Halimah laugh. She pointed at the girl and smiled. "Halimah," she said. 

Halimah shook her head of wild curls and giggled. Returning the gesture, she yelled, "Paysha!" Her voice was full of excitement.

They were knee deep into their language lesson when Jean Louis approached and sat down next to Paysha with the little girl sitting in her lap. "I'm sorry," he sighed, "I didn't realize it was such a sore spot for you."

She leaned into him and rested her head on hos shoulder. "It is," she replied, "But I think I overreacted. You had no reason to think I would respond like that." She looked up to see him smiling. "I'm glad you came here."

Jean Louis put his arm around her. "I see you've found your friend again," he said as he smiled at Halimah." 

"Oh yes," Paysha chuckled. "She is quite the linguistics teacher."

He raised his eyebrow. "Oh?" 

Halimah laughed and scooped up a handful of sand like she saw Inanna do and presented it to Jean Louis. "Raml," she said as she shook it into his lap. "Raml."

"I see," he said. "Raml." To Paysha, he commented, "You are right, she is quite the teacher."

The women emerged from the tent they'd been working on and bid the tribe inside for their supper. The men stood and followed where they were led, to the side of the main tent where they washed their hands with a canteen of water. They then went into the main tent and took their seats on cushions until every spot around the magnificent spread was taken, save three. These seats were reserved for the guests of honor, the strangers who came to visit them - Inanna, Jean Louis and Paysha. Jean Louis shook his head, Paysha looked puzzled, but Inanna sat down and flashed them both a look that said they better do the same. They watched as plates of spiced goat, grilled to perfection, and something resembling couscous with cheese and more spices were scooped with spoons or fingers of the right hand until they rotated to the next section. No one invited the trio to eat and they did not seem offended when none of the three made an attempt to eat. "Where are the women?" Paysha whispered, "And what about the children?"

"They eat in a separate tent," the father answered, his voice accented with the exotic. He startled both Paysha and Jean Louis. 

"You speak English?" Paysha said with incredulous uncertainty. "And you speak it well." She was impressed.

He smiled. "We all do, well, all except the smallest."

"But... but... how?" she stammered.

His answer surprised her, though it was obvious. "We are traders by nature," he said, "As the Western languages began to spread throughout our territory, we had to learn it, or face extinction. Survival of the fittest, right?" He flashed her a broad grin, pleased with himself and the reference to Charles Darwin. "You are the same, no?"

She nodded, the sighed, "We are."

Inanna interrupted them. "They know about us," she said, "They know all about our kind."

Paysha was prompted by the revelation to widen her eyes. "You're not frightened?" she directed towards the father. "Sir, you're not scared at all?" she asked again when she realized he didn't hear her the first time.

The man returned his attention to her. "Please," he beckoned, "Call me Fadil. And, no," he answered, "We are not scared of you or your kind. We have no reason to be. We are more... how do you say... curious?" He saw that his answer was not satisfactory to Paysha, nor to Jean Louis, as his brow scrunched in befuddlement, so he elaborated. "Centuries ago, our ancestors became protectors of those they called "maṣṣāṣ, who were your kind. There was a great war and one tribe, my ancestors, were trapped in a cave in the Tibesti Mountains," he gestured towards the jagged range that stood in silhouette against the darkening indigo of the evening sky. "They believed their lives to be over, but before the raiders could murder them, a group of maṣṣāṣ arrived and slaughtered the raiders before they could spill a drop of Bedouin blood. We've sheltered and protected the maṣṣāṣ ever since." He tilted his head opposite of Paysha and brushed his hand against the skin of his neck. "You are not the first to drink from me, nor will you be the last."

She gasped at the scars of previous puncture marks as they stood out from the shiny ebony of his flesh in tiny mounds of lighter skin. "You knew who we were when we came into your tent," she said, turning her eyes away. "I'm sorry we took advantage of you that way."

"Please," Fadil said as he set a gentle hand down on her arm, "Do not be sorry. I was awake and I allowed you. As I said, we have always been protectors of the maṣṣāṣ."

Satisfied with the discourse between her companions and their newfound friend, Inanna stood up to stretch. No one noticed when she did, and she was able to slip outside the tent to join the women and children at their own feast. She spied Fadil's wife, Nadra, at the far end, feeding an infant. Inanna approached her and knelt on the ground behind her. "This child is sickly," she whispered as she reached in and smoothed the downy hair on the baby's head. 

Nadra was not startled. "Yes," she answered, "His mother is dead and I, having recently lost my own child, have taken on his care." As though she didn't want Inanna to assume, she added, "He has several care takers." She nodded towards the other women who were breast-feeding their own babies.

Inanna smiled. "Such care," she whispered to her self, then, to Nadra, "Do you know what is wrong with him, the nature of his illness?"

"He was born too young," Nadra said, "His mother died in childbirth. She was my sister." She pulled the babe from her teet and placed him on her lap, stomach down, neck rested on her leg as she patted his back in a soft rhythm. The baby burped and he let out a small whimper until the constant drumming of her fingers relaxed him and he fell asleep. She rolled him over and swaddled him in a colorful scarf. "He's too small. He will die soon, too."

A sadness hung over Nadra's area of the tent. "Don't say that," Inanna said, "There's always hope." She bit the end of her finger and drew a drop of blood. With careful intention, she reached towards the infant's mouth.

Nadra stopped her. "I don't want him a maṣṣāṣ," she pleaded, her fingers wrapped around Inanna's slender wrist, "He will be forever an infant."

Inanna shook her head, "A couple drops will heal him," she soothed, "That's all I will give him, to help him have hope and strength. Does he have a name?"

"No," Nadra replied, loosening her grip and letting Inanna continue. She watched as the woman lowered her hand and let the crimson droplets that formed on her index finger fell to the baby's lips, as the blood seeped between his lips and left trails on the puckered flesh. He sucked in his sleep, drinking in the sanguine that would heal him. 

"That is all," Inanna said as she pulled her hand back. "He will find his strength." 

A tear fell down Nadra's cheek. "Thank you," she cried, her voice a thin wisp of its normal self.


	8. Chapter 8

They traveled, miles and miles on foot, more miles on the backs of the livestock they brought with them, a veritable menagerie of camels, dromedaries, horses, a handful of goats and sheep that were hardy enough to withstand the dry Saharan heat, until they neared the upper coast of Algeria. It was here, they settled, once again, for the coastal rainy season, to let their herds feed, to grow the grains and staples that would help them when they returned back to the mountainous region they'd arrived from. 

Fadil and Nadra's family was growing. Besides Halimah and the thriving baby they named Ruh, Nadra was beginning to show the telltale roundness of a full womb. She was carried on camelbak for the journey, then settled first into their tent, treated like a queen. Fadil was afraid of jarring her too much, afraid she'd lose this baby. He instructed Halimah to bring her food and help care for Ruh. The little girl was giddy over the prospect of acting like a little mother and relished her role, often taking her charge out to visit the animals.

Though traversing unforgiving lands was nothing new to Paysha or Jean Louis, they found that Inanna, in her sedentary lifestyle, lacked much of the strength and wherewithal to withstand the travel. She'd taken to helping the men that wrangled the livestock by riding along with them on horseback. Despite their differences in transportation, all of them made sure they were completely covered, hidden from the sun's deadly rays by heavy cotton robes, thick blankets, and dark veils that covered their faces. 

The tribe settled just outside of the heavily populated coastal area; their closest town was Laghouet. They paid a bounty to the man whose land they occupied - his choice of their prize livestock to be used in husbandry to improve his own flock - and settled in before dusk fell. The tents were laid out as they were at the last camp. The dining tents were built closest to where the cooking fires were to be, the tents of those who ranked highest in the tribe finished the circle around the gathering area. Behind the first circle, were the dwellings of those with families, and behind the families, those of the single men and shepherds. It was not meant as a caste system, rather, if the time came, they relied upon the men on the outside of the group to be strong enough to defend those on the inside. 

Jean Louis and Paysha were given their choice of location and, knowledgeable to the tribe's history with their kind, chose a tent on the peripherals of the encampment. Inanna chose one in the center. She reasoned that, were the unthinkable to happen, she would be the protector from the inside. Her companions knew the truth, though, that she was attached to Ruh, that the infant she helped save also helped save her from the apathetic end she longed for. 

While they enjoyed the kindness of their hosts and the solace provided by residing in a remote area, Jean Louis and Paysha knew it was not their place. They longed to find more, to search for the Brethren and be with more of their own kind. The stumbling block to moving along was Inanna. They couldn't leave her, even though they knew she was happy there. She knew where the Brethren lived, at least where they'd lived when she left them, and she refused to give them the information. She was their only hope. They decided to wait her out, spending their energies over the weeks in becoming more productive members of Bedouin society.

December arrived and with it the colder winter temperatures the Sahara was not known for. The Bedouins kept themselves warm by wrapping up in heavier woolen robes and sheep skins, as well as keeping closer to the always-burning fire in the communal areas. With the increasing darkness of the Winter Solstice impending, the maṣṣāṣ returned to their primordial habits of retiring to their own domiciles with the first light of dawn and emerging only when dusk safely shaded the skies. The shorter days meant they were awake and guarding the tribe during the long winter nights. 

After a long and difficult labor, Nadra's baby was born. She had a son who screamed heartily and had the luck of a birth under a full moon. He was strong and looked like Fadil. They named him Faiz, which meant, "Victorious," for the birth of a son in their society was revered. He was the apple of his family's eyes, and a great source of entertainment for Ruh, who, at nearly the age of one, was fascinated with the way his brother curled his fingers around his own and would suckle them. The encampment rang out with peals of laughter and incited everyone around to smile at the pure joy of it.

Shortly after the beginning of the new year, Halimah celebrated her birthday. She was 10 years old, though small for her age. Once her daily chores were complete, she relished long talks with Paysha and Inanna, which often stretched long into the hours of darkness. She learned about their pasts, drinking in all the details of Adam and Eve, revering the tales Inanna told of the Brethren, until she became adept at the historical retelling of her friends. 

Of this, Fadil was proud and he wore the pride on his sleeve. His daughter was a genius. She became the resident expert on the maṣṣāṣ. Halimah became a legend among her tribe and word began to spread to others in the area. When pilgrims were sent to inquire of her, Fadil turned them away with no information, dismissing her knowledge as child's play and the result of too large of an imagination. It wasn't much of a stretch to imagine that she'd made it all up. His pride did not take precedence over his desire to protect his kith and kin, which also included Inanna, Paysha and Jean Louis. 

"Papa," Halimah asked as they sat around the communal fire one evening, "Why do we not tell outsiders about the maṣṣāṣ?"

The flames danced in his eyes as they welled with the hint of tears, which he promptly choked back. "My sweet," he answered, "They are not like we are. Maṣṣāṣ are known to us, to our ancestors, as brave and benevolent, but to others, they are known as fierce and murderous and worthy of nothing short of death." He could see the horror in her expression as she took in his explanation. Bringing his fingertip to her chin and stroking her blushed cheek with his thumb, he continued, "Now we wouldn't want to expose our new friends to that, would we?" Halimah shook her head. "Can you imagine that if they thought of our companions that way, what they may think of us?"

Halimah shook with an involuntary shiver. "They might think we are monsters," she whispered as though the word was too frightening to say out loud, lest it bring demons from the shadows that loomed behind them.

Fadil nodded. "You are correct." He wanted to say more, to explain more, but he didn't. Though she was small and intelligent, he had a hard time remembering that she was not a woman and still possessed a child's naivete. 

Paysha emerged from Inanna's tent and distracted Halimah from her conversation. She watched as her friend urged others to begin playing music and began to dance around the fire, her movements matching the beats of the stretched skin drums and her skirts swirling in a rainbow of colors against the bright flames. Halimah jumped up from beside her father and began spinning in circles and swaying to the sounds of the music. The look on her face was pure joy as Paysha took her hands and led her to the far side of the bonfire and swung her around. 

Jean Louis returned from his evening walk and sat down on the ground next to Fadil. He smiled at the spectacle. "You know, Fadil," he began, "Soon Paysha and I will need to move on." When his friend cocked his eyebrow at him, he continued. "We've wandered so long and so far to find more of our kind and, while we appreciate your hospitality and your kindness, it is time to resume our search."

From the expression on Fadil's face, the announcement was not entirely a surprise. "What about Inanna?" he asked. "Will she join you?"

"The subject has not been entirely broached," Jean Louis answered as he ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed as he watched the women dance. "In fact, she avoids any discussion." Looking back towards Fadil, he added, "She's happy here and I think she would rather stay."

Inanna emerged from her own dwelling and joined the dancers as a broad grin spread across her face. Her smile made Fadil smile. "She would be welcome here for as long as she likes," he said. "Halimah enjoys talking with her and learning from her. She would be a great asset."

The song ended and the women returned to their previous occupations; some preparing the evening meals, others tending the small children that crawled about their feet like pudgy, furless cats, weaving themselves in and out between their mothers' legs, sometimes almost tripping them. Paysha hoisted Halimah onto her shoulders and carried her back around the fire before setting her back down in front of her father. "We are exhausted!" Paysha exclaimed as she flopped down on the ground next to Jean Louis and leaned against him, her cascading hair falling over his arm.

Halimah hopped with excitement. "That was so fun!" she proclaimed as she dropped into Fadil's lap. "I want to do it again."

"I'm sure you do," he chuckled. "I'm sure if you let her rest again, Paysha may dance with you again before we eat."

"Can we?" Halimah shot a hopeful glance at her friend.

Paysha smiled and nodded. "I suppose," she said, trying not to smile. In their months with the caravan, she came to love the little girl as much as she would if Halimah were her own. A sadness tinged her gaze, though, with the knowledge that they would soon be leaving and have to leave the tribe behind. That was the part she was least looking forward to - the look on Halimah's face as they left. "Perhaps we can urge Jean Louis to join us?"

Jean Louis held his hands up near his chest, palms out in protest. "I'm not much of a dancer," he said. "You girls are much better."

With a kiss on his cheek, Paysha goaded, "You're a wonderful dancer," she stated. "Any girl would be honored to dance with you."

Inanna was in deep conversation with one of the women on the other side of the common area. Upon seeing her friends gathered, she waved and smiled. Once she was done talking, she made her way back to them ad sat down on the ground in front of Paysha. "I don't do nearly enough dancing," she said. "I should do more."

"Well, you may get the chance," Fadil replied as the music started up again. 

Her body began rocking to the beat, but she stayed where she was. "I think I'll wait this one out."

Halimah jumped to her feet. "I want to dance!" she proclaimed and attempted to grab Paysha's hand from its place on Jean Louis' leg. "Come on!"

Paysha appreciated her enthusiasm, but did not move. "We'll dance the next one, Sweetheart," she said. "Why don't you find your mother and get her to dance while we talk."

Her face scrunched up with disapproval, Halimah took a deep breath. "Okay," she answered. "But do you promise we get to dance the next one?"

"Cross my heart," Paysha said as she drew an "X" with her index finger on her chest. She watched as the girl skipped away until she was hidden by the flames of the fire between them, then addressed Inanna. "You really love it here, don't you?"

Inanna nodded. "I do," she replied. "It's beautiful here." Looking at Fadil, she added, "Your people are wonderful people." 

"Thank you," he smiled.

Jean Louis inhaled and let it out slowly. He did not relish revealing their plans to Inanna. "Paysha and I will be leaving," he finally said. 

"I thought that would be coming soon," Inanna said. "I've been feeling it since shortly after we arrived here." She swept her hands in a broad gesture. 

"It's not that we don't enjoy it here," Paysha defended, "But we are still looking for others." She paused. "And we'd like to look for the Brethren."

The mention of her former community dropped the smile from Inanna's face. "I'm not sure they even exist any longer," she said sadly. "For all I know, they've abandoned the settlement and fallen victim to the same dangers so many of our others have faced." She tried to gauge the expressions in her companions' faces, but was unable to.

Placing his hand on her knee, Jean Louis countered, "We know, but we have to try." 

"I want to stay here," Inanna decided after thinking for a moment. She looked at Fadil. "That is, if you'll have me?"

Fadil bowed his head to her. "We would be honored," he answered. 

Tears filled their eyes as the decision was made. They were tears of happiness, tears of loss, tears of excitement. When Halimah returned, she had Ruh in tow. "Why are you all sad?" she asked.

Paysha choked back her tears and replied, "Jean Louis and I will be leaving soon."

"Why?" the little girl's question seemed so innocent. "Why can't you stay?" She looked at her father. "Da, why won't you let them stay?"

"Sweet," Fadil said softly as he put his hand on her arm, "They are always welcome. I am not forcing them."

She turned her attention to Paysha as her eyes filled with her own tears. Ruh squirmed from her grip and Fadil took the boy from her. "Why do you want to leave us?" she asked as her voice broke.

With a sigh, Paysha explained, "There are many things in the world Jean Louis and I have searched for, things we're still searching for, and we need to continue our journey."

"Can I come with you?" Halimah asked. 

Jean Louis shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said, "Your place is here, with your family."

The impending tear rolled down the girl's cheek. "But I want you to stay." She stamped her foot.

"I'm staying," Inanna announced and was immediately embraced and smothered by Halimah. "I'm staying," she repeated, her voice muffled.


	9. Chapter 9

The evening fell and their tent darkened. The light from the setting sun was just enough to illuminate the shadows of people and animals moving around outside. Paysha propped herself up on her elbow and shook Jean Louis awake with her free hand. "Wake up, Sleepyhead," she whispered in his ear as she leaned down to kiss him.

Jean Louis rolled onto his back. "What time is it?" he asked, still groggy.

"Sundown," she answered. "Time to go." He groaned as she uncovered herself and stepped into the chilly air. "It's freezing," she shivered. Her words hung in the air like smoke rings. Grabbing her clothing from where it sat, rumpled on the floor at the end of the bed, she got dressed as fast as she possibly could.

"We aren't in that much of a hurry are we?" he asked, content to spend a few more warm moments nestled under the blankets. 

She shot him a look of disapproval. "We're not, but I don't want to make it any harder than it is."

He nodded and uncovered himself; the cold air made instant goosebumps on his skin. "Brr," he said. His teeth chattered as he got out of bed. "We don't have to leave if you don't want to." His clothes were on the floor next to where Paysha's were and he hurried to grab them and put them on.

"We do," she sighed. "As wonderful as it is here, as much as I enjoy the company and the camaraderie, I want to find the Brethren. I want this for us, for our kind."

Jean Louis could see her point. "We will continue our journey, then," he replied. 

There was fanfare when they emerged from their tent. Their adopted tribe was gathered at the door and erupted into applause when they stepped outside. Fadil and Nadra led the onslaught, though Halimah was the first to approach. She ran to Paysha and wrapped her spindly arms around her legs. "I don't want you to go," she sobbed.

"Hali," Nadra scolded. She cradled Faiz in her arms and was unable to do anything else, though her instinct was to pull her daughter away. Instead, she clucked and bounced as Faiz began to fuss.

Fadil had an easier time of it as he held Ruh in a carrier fashioned from a long scarf on his back. "They have made the choice," he said, his voice even, as he set his hand on Halima's shoulder. "We need to let them along on their chosen path."

She responded to his tempered response by withdrawing from Paysha and slinking to her father's side. "Okay, Da." Her voice was thin and meek as she resigned to the loss of her friends. 

Paysha crouched down and reached out for her. "We'll come back some day," she said. "It's not forever." The little girl slowly moved into her arms and then embraced her, her hot, salty tears on Paysha's neck as she sobbed. Paysha patted Halimah's back. "How about we stay through supper?" she asked. 

Halimah drew back from her and looked at her with red, weepy eyes. "Okay," she sniffled.

"That settles it, then," Paysha exclaimed as she stood up with the girl in her arms. She looked at Jean Louis, not for his approval, but for his understanding. "We'll leave after supper."

He nodded. "That sounds good," he replied. 

What turned into a crowd of kith and kin followed Paysha and Jean Louis to the common area, where they gathered around the already-torrid fire. The men sat down, the women resumed their duties in preparing the meal. The children kept near their mothers. 

As Paysha and Jean Louis talked and enjoyed the company of their friends for the last time, Inanna joined them. "You haven't left, yet," she observed. "Problems with logistics?"

"No," Jean Louis said, his voice bubbling with amusement. He motioned toward Halimah. "This little one has grown rather attached and Paysha promised her we'd stay through supper."

She gave him a knowing nod. "I see." Directing her attention to the girl, she said, "You know that I am staying, don't you?"

Halimah grinned from her place in Paysha's lap. "Yes!" she exclaimed as she jumped up and hurtled herself at Halimah, ending with a strangling neck embrace. "I'm happy you will still be here, but I am sad they are leaving," she said into the woman's neck, her voice muffled.

"You'll see them again," Inanna reassured. "I'm sure of it."

The evening meal was announced and the tribe stood and shuffled to their respective areas to eat. Paysha and Jean Louis stayed outside and watched them. Inanna rose and slid Halimah from her lap, grasping her small hand and leading her towards where the women and children ate. Neither looked back at their friends. "Should we leave now?" Paysha asked. The flames of the roaring fire shadowed the far side of her face as she turned her attention to Jean Louis.

He took a deep breath. "We should probably say goodbye," he answered. "They've been so good to us, it seems a shame to leave so ignominiously." 

They made their way around the fire and to the tents. First, they approached the women and children. "It is time for us to go," Paysha announced as all the upturned faces looked at her. The group nodded and began to stand. "Please, don't stand for our sake," she admonished. "We wish you all the best." She smiled at them and received warmth in return. She'd come to know so many of them and they held a special place in her heart. "Thank you for your hospitality."

Jean Louis had already turned to leave the tent and Paysha began to follow when she heard a voice from the back of the enclosure say, "Please wait." It was Nadra. She stood with Faiz cradled in her arms. Ruh grasped around her leg, his little hands gathered in her skirts. The other women moved out of her way as she made her way around the group. Once she reached Paysha, she leaned close and whispered, "You cannot travel hungry." When Paysha raised her eyebrow in question, she huffed, "Follow me outside."

Fadil was also outside, waiting for them. His broad smile was a beacon in the impending darkness. "My friends," he announced as he clapped his broad hand on Jean Louis' back, "I know you are leaving soon and I couldn't bear to send you on your way with empty bellies." He laughed as he patted his own. "Nadra and I would like you to take what you need from us and," he handed Jean Louis a satchel that was sitting on the ground near his feet, "In here you will find enough to subsist on for a long while. Long enough, I hope, for you to find what it is you desire."

Jean Louis looked inside and saw several canteens, each filled with sanguine goodness. He looked astonished. "Thank you, my friend," he said, "But how?"

"You are among friends and family," was all Fadil would answer. "Love provides all." 

"Thank you," Paysha cried, her voice broken by tears. She moved close to Nadra to hug the woman and was told, "Drink," by her as she pulled her scarf away from her neck. Faiz cooed in his sleep as Paysha leaned closer and placed her lips on the woman's neck. She heard Fadil say the same to Jean Louis. Her teeth pierced the soft flesh over Nadra's artery and she felt the warmth of her blood as it flowed over her tongue. She drank just enough to feel the familiar fullness she expected with a good feeling. Her hunger was sated. 

As she unlatched herself and leaned back, Paysha used the back of her hand to wipe any errant droplets from her mouth and then pulled the scarf back over Nadra's neck to cover the already-clotted marks from her fangs. "Do you feel alright?" she asked the woman.

Nadra nodded. "I'm fine," she replied. 

Jean Louis was already standing away from Fadil and shaking the man's hand when Paysha grasped Nadra's hands. "Than you so much," she gushed, "I will be forever grateful."

"You are our protectors as we are yours," Fadil said, speaking for both himself and his family. "Please remember that you will always have a home here."

"We will," Jean Louis answered as Inanna emerged from the tent behind Paysha with Halimah in tow.

He crouched down and held his hands out towards the girl. "I can't leave without a hug from my favorite girl, can I?" he smiled.

Halimah ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'll miss you!" she cried.

"I'll miss you, too." He motioned for Paysha to join them as he stood up with Halimah in his arms. 

Paysha wrapped her arms around the both of them. "Be a good girl for your Ma and Da," she whispered in the girl's ear. "They need you."

"Okay," Halimah answered. She gave each of them a kiss on the cheek and Jean Louis let her down. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she ran between her parents and grasped the chubby arms of Ruh. 

Jean Louis and Paysha bid their friends goodbye and hoisted their full knapsacks over their shoulders before walking towards the western horizon. They followed the path of the setting sun, hoping it would be enough to buy them enough time to reach Morocco.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone still reading this?

The night waned as the lovers traveled, though the sustenance they received before leaving the encampment of the Bedouin tribe was enough to make them fleet of foot. Jean Louis and Paysha made the outskirts of Tangier just as the first pastel colors began to illuminate in the eastern sky. The cobblestone-lined alleyways shielded them from the sun's rays as they navigated the labyrinth of the city. There was hardly a soul out at the early hour, save the ne'er-do-wells Paysha was warned about by Eve, but those were dealt with in the blink of an eye, or a flash of the fangs, as it were. The riffraff did not look for trouble so much as they looked to sell or buy a quick fix. 

The sand-colored walls that surrounded them were protection enough, but Paysha searched for the telltale blue door that Eve described to her long ago. It was the entrance to her own hideaway, her home when in Morocco. Though abandoned by Eve long ago after she found it occupied by yet another vagrant family, Paysha hoped there would be room, that she would find the abode empty and suitable for their own habitat once again. She felt a sense of deja vu as they traversed the streets, but knew it was more because of the vivid descriptions she heard from Eve that having been there before. Even so, the familiarity was a comfort she didn't have the leisure to ignore. 

She was listening to the sounds of the city as it woke to the sunrise - noises coming from open windows of people engaging in the morning tasks of their mundane lives, pans clanging, the roller shades of market shops that fluttered as they were opened for business, and the smells of cooking and fresh foods, mingled with tobacco smoke and incense. Jean Louis broke her enjoyment of observation as he interjected, "I think this might be it."

There was a faded door tucked into a dark corner that was painted a bright blue at one time, but was sun-faded and mostly scoured off by sand storms. The curvatures at the top on either side and the small window in the center of it looked exactly as Eve said it would, though. The glass was broken out and the bronze handle was tarnished and worn. The ornate lock above the handle was jammed with something in it, a bone or a stick, that impeded its use. Paysha grasped the handle and pulled on the door, hoping it would open. She used all her strength, but the heavy wood would not budge. 

"I bet it's because of the lock," Jean Louis pointed out. "I think I may be able to fix it." He retrieved a pair of scissors from his knapsack that had thing, sharp blades and poked it as far as he could into the lock. The point hit something solid and he attempted to lever it open. "There's definitely something stuck in here," he grunted as he kept plying the scissors.

Paysha sighed and leaned against the wall. "Can you get it out?" she asked, annoyed.

He was quiet, concentrating on the task at hand, until he heard the telltale click of the lock. "I think that might be it," he finally said as he withdrew the tool from the lock. He tucked it back into the knapsack and grasped the handle with lithe fingers. It took little effort, this time, to get the heavy door open, and when he did, it was akin to opening a long-forgotten tomb. The vacuum seal of the entrance created a swirling of dust that curled outside and settled on the stone walkway in front of Paysha. "Do you care to go in first?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I would love to," she said as she stepped past him into the dingy light. 

Directly in front of them was a staircase that reached to another floor. Its steps were covered in dusty red carpet and piles of tattered, long-forgotten books. The wallpaper was a neutral color, torn in places and curled up with cobwebs inside each little spiral. As Jean Louis stepped in and closed the door behind him, the cobwebs shook and released more dust motes into the air. 

In the darkness, there was silence. Even their steps as they climbed the staircase were muffled by years of neglect, the creaks made by the wooden risers more like whispers of the past. Jean Louis accidentally kicked one of the rotted books and exclaimed in surprise and Paysha was tempted to shush him, but she didn't because it was obvious that the place was abandoned and had been for years, perhaps even since Eve's last visit. 

When they reached the top of the stairs, there was still little light. A window at the far end let in one single stream of sunlight through a moth-eaten hole in its draperies, but that was barely enough to navigate by. Jean Louis noticed a candle on a table close to the top of the stairs and pulled a box of matches from his knapsack to light it. "Where'd you get those?" Paysha laughed when she heard him strike the match head against the rough side of the box.

Jean Louis lit the candle and shook the flame out on the match. "Inanna insisted I bring them," he replied. He recalled how she retrieved them from her tent before they left and handed them to him with a knowing look.

"She is a wise woman," Paysha said. "I wish she'd made this journey with us."

He agreed, but added, "I think she knew we'd make better time without her."

They carried the candle into the center of the room and took stock of what was there. Eve described it like a room in a castle with a grand, ornately carved bed, linens of spun silk in vibrant blue - her favorite color - and collections of her favorite tomes on every available open surface, save the center of the room that she reserved for dancing on a colorful Turkish rug. The room they saw resembled Eve's description very little. The worn Turkish rug remained, but there were holes in it that showed the dirty, bare floor. The ornate bed was gone, they assumed stolen and sold, and in its place was a pile of dirty, pungent rags that resembled the shape of a bed. The books were gone, save a few volumes that were somehow worse off than the ones they passed on the stairs, that turned to dust as soon as they were touched. There were burn marks on the walls and a pile of long-dried, soiled pans piled in the corner. Someone had lived there since Eve left, but even that person was long-gone.

Jean Louis disposed of the rags, holding his nose as he carried them back down the stairs and left them in the alley way. Paysha went to work gathering the rest of the detritus and shoving it into a small alcove she found behind one of the many tattered draperies. "I don't know how we're going to stay here," she groused when Jean Louis returned. "It's filthy."

He embraced her, the lingering odor of the rags clinging to his clothing. "It's only for one day," he sighed. "As soon as night falls again, we can continue on and leave this wretched place."

"I'm sure it could be made grand and glorious, again," she said, "And, if we had the time, I'm sure Eve would appreciate it." As the words passed her lips, she knew it was as far from the truth as she could get. Eve would never see it, one way or another. She'd sworn off her beloved Tangier the night she and Adam last left, the night they broke their oath to drink from verified clean blood and fed upon mortals for the first time in centuries. 

Paysha pulled a large, heavy camel skin from her own knapsack and spread it on top of the filthy floor as she marveled at its weight and that she was able to carry it as far as she did. It was on this that they bedded down after having drunk the day's ration from one of the canteens. She slept fitfully, wrapped by Jean Louis' long arms. Her dreams were plagued by nightmares in which she was consumed by fires and loneliness and screamed for her beloved.

"Darling," she heard, his concerned voice cutting into the flames and horrors of her imagination, "Darling, you're dreaming," he said as he took turns shaking her from troubled sleep and holding her tightly to stifle the thrashing as she battled unseen demons.

She opened her eyes and saw him, a silhouette against he beam of sunlight that came in through a hole in the draperies on the other side of the room. "Jean Louis?" she whispered, her voice fraught with tears. "It was horrible," she sobbed as she buried her face in his chest. "We were in a village and there was evil there, and flames. I couldn't find you and I was burning alive." 

Jean Louis caressed her back and petted her head. "Shhh," he hushed, "It was just a dream. You're here with me in Tangier and there are no flames. No reason to worry."

Paysha shuddered with the sensation of icy fingers climbing up her spine. "I hope it's not a premonition," she said, her voice broken by the leftover tangles of sleep as much as the cold web of fear. She leaned back and looked up at Jean Louis. "I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to."

He nodded. "We'll leave as soon as the sun goes down, Sweetheart." Even though he didn't want to admit it, Jean Louis was also shaken by Paysha's dream, not because of her vivid description or her reaction to the nightmare, but because he had a similar dream several nights before they left the Bedouin camp, except in his dream, he was the once consumed by the flames. 

Neither of them could return to sleep, so they sat huddled together on the camel skin, wrapped in scarves and woven blankets as though the inside of the room was freezing. Legend says that if a room is occupied by a spirit, there will usually be a cold spot, icy to the touch, because the entity will pull all the energy from the air around it. While both Paysha and Jean Louis were dubious about the existence of the paranormal, even though they were lumped into that category, they were certain a ghost existed inside the apartment - the ghost of the past. In those plaster walls, they could feel the spectres of Adam and Eve and even Ava, whom they'd been told stories. There was no proof that any of the three still existed on their same plane of existence, but they could be felt here. 

When evening fell, it was not soon enough for the lovers. They packed what they could, leaving the items they felt were too heavy to travel quickly with. Jean Louis managed to procure a plane flight out of Casablanca to Stockholm for them and they had the name and address of a businessman known to Eve where they could get passports and identification made on the fly. 

As they descended the stairs of the apartment, Paysha took one last look into the dusty tomb. "I feel like I'm leaving her behind, now," she said softly as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Jean Louis turned to face her. He was a few inches shorter than she was because he stood two steps down on the cobblestone of the alley. "She isn't here," he replied. "She hasn't been here for years."

Paysha looked at him and gave a sad smile. "You're right," she sighed. "It's just an empty building full of trash and vermin." She stepped across the threshold while she grasped the door handle and swung the heavy wood shut. It groaned like an old man and then sealed back up again as though it was never disturbed. "Let's go," she said as she joined Jean Louis. "Let's move on."


	11. Chapter #11

The plane touched down on the tarmac just as the early morning light was illuminating the sky on the horizon, however, that was the only light of day Stockholm would see until mid-March. It was the dark season, when the sun was so far away from the northern countries that they were steeped in perpetual night. Even though there was a technical daylight, the rays of the sun were blocked by trees and lingering clouds, leaving everyone in an evening haze before plunging them back into darkness.

Jean Louis exited the plane with Paysha in tow. Disembarking did not take long. Their flight was a red-eye, the kind that flies overnight and affords little sleep to its passengers, and it was not Stockholm's strong tourist season - most people preferred to visit during the temperate summer months when the air was only crisp and the country was green. Only a few other people straggled behind them, a dozen or so that yawned as they navigated the breezeway with their rolling luggage, neck pillows, and a laptop bag or two. 

The airport itself was just as abandoned. A majority of the shops and stalls were still closed, though a few remained open 24 hours a day. A newsstand was occupied by an overanxious mother and her towheaded toddler who tried to play peek-a-boo by dodging in and out of the racks of magazines and books, ignoring the over-tired pleas of his mother to settle down. Behind the register counter, a cashier sat, unaffected, reading the recently-delivered morning news. Next to the newsstand was a coffee shop. It was busier, a line of three people queued and yawning as they looked around at the glass and steel molded into the modern architecture that surrounded them. 

Paysha shivered as they walked through the corridor, lugging their bags with them. "It's freezing here," she exclaimed. 

"We're acclimated to farther Southern climes," Jean Louis agreed, "and I doubt our clothing is suitable for the weather here. Until then, we can layer what we have." 

They found a bench large enough for both of them to sit on with their packs sitting next to them and pulled out some of the heavier clothing they were given by the Bedouin. Though the fabric was chilled from travel, Paysha sighed with relief as it began to warm around her body. With all the layers, they looked out of place to the few people who mulled around the airport, but they didn't care. 

Once they were outside, it was even colder. Jean Louis hailed a taxi and instructed the driver to take them to the least expensive hotel he knew of. They found money at Eve's apartment, but they were not sure how it would exchange and did not want to waste what precious little there was. 

The driver was silent, listening to classical music on a low volume, bobbing his dirty blond head occasionally to the beat. Jean Louis and Paysha held hands, but stared out their own windows. The scenery sped by the windows of the taxi cab - colorful city buildings standing in contrast to the stark winter snow lying at their feet and the bare, skeletal branches of slumbering trees that lined the sidewalks across the parkway. The whole scene was veiled in darkness, albeit muted by the lights that shown bright. It looked beautiful and cold. Eventually the city scene faded to countryside and the darkness deepened. 

Paysha closed her eyes and pressed her cheek on the freezing glass. Traveling made her weary, unless done by foot. She hated the monotony of the human construct of machinery, even though it meant she could move farther in hours than she could walk in days. Jean Louis, on the other hand, was fascinated by the mechanical. He assumed it was because of his upbringing in such a manual and laborious society, where farming was life and hard work was gospel. "Where are we going?" he asked the driver.

"Uppsala," came the gruff answer. "It's cheaper there," he added before turning the music up and concerning himself with the road ahead.

Jean Louis expected a small town in the country when they arrived, but Uppsala was the opposite. It lacked the big city vibe of Stockholm, but retained all of, if not even more, of the charm. A dual-towered cathedral rose from the center of the city with masses of lower-profiled buildings radiating from it. They traversed a bridge that straddled either side of a wide canal and passed buildings that were built with sturdy masonry. After a few wild turns of corners, they stopped. "You're here," the tax driver announced. He exited the cab and opened the door behind his seat, startling Paysha.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as the door moved away from where she was resting. "I didn't realize we were here, wherever 'here' is." She looked outside and saw a three-story yellow building with dormers on the roof and white trim. "It looks quaint," she said, then spied the "Hostel" sign. "I don't think we can stay here, though."

The driver scowled. "Why?" he demanded. "You asked for a cheap hotel and this is the cheapest."

Taken aback and not wanting to offend him, she explained, "We want to room together. I don't think we can do so here."

"You can," he responded, rolling his eyes. "Ask for a double room."

Jean Louis exited his side of the taxi and grabbed their bags from the trunk of the taxi. "I'm sure it will be perfectly fine, darling," he smiled as he rounded the car and took Paysha's hand to help her out. "Our driver is an intelligent man. I'm confident in his choice." His flattery made the man puff up, his portly figure straightening up and his crooked, toothy smile brightened even more so when Jean Louis stuffed his hand full of several small bills. "Now that ought to be enough to cover our fare, isn't it?" 

Without even looking at his money, the driver stuffed it into his pocket. "Ja, that should be just fine," he agreed. "Thank you for your business." He hurried back into the driver's seat and slammed the door. Once Paysha's door was closed, he sped off, rounding a corner and disappearing from view.

"What was that?" Paysha laughed. "He didn't even count our fare."

Jean Louis blushed. "I picked up a few tricks from Inanna," he replied.

She grinned and slapped him on the arm. "You learned to glamour!"" she exclaimed. "You glamoured him."

He nodded. "I wasn't sure it would even work." 

"You'll have to teach me, because obviously, it did." She giggled and moved out of his reach as he tried to embrace her. "We need to get inside."

The sky was beginning to lighten, but Jean Louis scoffed. "It's winter," he said, "That means the sun doesn't get much higher than this. We could stay out all day, if we chose to."

"Well," she said as she disappeared into the front door of the hostel, "I choose to get a decent day's rest."

He followed her in and they checked in at the front desk. The woman there was young, most likely just out of her teens, but already bedraggled. "Follow me," she said, her voice bland and her expression blank. Even her auburn hair was scraggly and lifeless. She took them to an elevator and pressed the button for the 2nd floor. "You'll be in the room at the end."

The elevator opened and a hallway stretched the length of the building with a single window at the other end. They were led along dark red carpet that was worn and stained, but cared for all the same, to a door midway down. The desk clerk pulled a key from the pocket of her jeans and opened the door. "It's not Club Med," she said as she placed the key in Jean Louis' outstretched hand. "Enjoy." She left them there and exited through the door opposite them that led to the stairwell.

"Well," Paysha sighed, "That was interesting."

He agreed. "I think she's heading for bed soon, herself." He pushed the door the rest of the way and revealed a small room with one window and a double bed. "This looks cozy," he said as Paysha passed him.

"At least we can close the curtains," she smirked. "It'll do."

They set their bags down on the floor and shed some of their layers of clothing before making the bed with the crisp linens that were folded neatly on the mattress. Once the bed was made, they closed the curtains, laid down, and fell into a deep slumber.


	12. Chapter #12

Paysha was thankful they'd prepaid the week with instructions to not disturb given to the hostel staff. Though they were loathe to acquiesce, after the first day, the maids had the epiphany that they would rather keep their heads than incur the wrath of the two monsters that occupied the room. Were they superstitious people, they would have pronounced the room possessed by evil and crossed themselves when passing. As it was, there were rumblings among the staff that those who occupied that room were far from human and fed on flesh, making the shift that was supposed to service the room and change the linens the least desirable one to have, and before long, everyone avoided it. Their fear was not entirely without merit, as the first person to disturb the exhausted but ravenous couple was terrorized by the hunger in their eyes and the predatory demeanor of their actions and fled the hostel fearing for her life, never to return.

They slept for two days straight through after the initial incident of disturbance and emerged rested and ready for the journey ahead. Night time in the hostel was a banquet, the dorms filled with young, mostly innocent people with blood that was only occasionally sullied by the likes of alcohol and recreational drugs. It was a nice reprieve from the canteens provided by the Bedouins, though without that sustenance they would not have survived the journey. They fed discreetly and if there rumblings of anything amiss at the hostel, they heard nothing.

On the third evening there, they ventured out in search of more suitable clothing. The scarves and skins that'd adopted in the desert regions were poor for the Scandinavian climate and, as they emerged from the hostel doors, they were more a source of spectacle among those who were sensibly dressed. Paysha did not like feeling like she was in a fishbowl and her discomfort was apparent as she squeezed herself in closer to Jean Louis. "Everyone is looking at us," she hissed. 

"Because you are beautiful, my darling," Jean Louis smiled, hoping he could charm her from her displeasure at the situation. For good measure, he followed it up with, "Don't worry yourself, before long, we will blend in as much as any tourist."

Upon request, the desk clerk at the hostel provided them with a list and a map that directed them to some of the more popular shopping areas nearby. They decided to visit the Forumgallerian, Sweden's answer to the modern shopping mall, on the premise that the selection would be greater and the amount of tourists concentrated in the area would provide better camouflage for them as they moved along the corridors.

In the interest of saving their meager amount of money, they opted for Uppsala public transportation to reach their destination and were pleased to learn that there was a direct route. Upon boarding the bus at the stop at the corner opposite their hostel, they were also pleasantly surprised that the vehicle was largely unoccupied, save the driver and one other person towards the back of the bus. The driver was a large man, gruff, red-nosed, with a shock of dark red hair that peeked out from under the navy blue cap that was part of his uniform. He grunted as Jean Louis dropped their fare in the collector box, but did not look at them, otherwise. The person in the back of the bus looked like he or she was asleep. Clad in a black hoodie that covered their face, they remained motionless and did not acknowledge the presence of new passengers. Jean Louis and Paysha choose a couple seats toward the middle of the bus. 

The bus herked and jerked through the city streets, making their behinds bump uncomfortably against the hard seats. The unused hand-straps on the bars above their heads swayed with the movement, and the exhaust spit out an occasional belch to relieve the cacophony of engine growls. They were thankful when the ride finally came to a stop and eagerly exited the bus as soon as the door swung open. The stranger in the back of the bus left through the rear doors and hurried down the sidewalk into the shadows.

Forumgallerian stood in front of them, a monument to Swedish design sensibility. Its high, brick walls blended seamlessly with the rest of the city, while expansive windows spoke a silent invite of partaking of the fashionable wares contained therein. A few people mulled around outside, cell phones at their ears or cigarettes at their lips, all wearing parkas or shawls or some sort of outerwear that helped combat the imposing cold. "Well," Jean Louis said as he approached the glass doors in front of them, "Shall we go in?"

Paysha nodded. "Please," she answered as she grasped his outstretched hand and followed him into the building. 

Compared to the darkness outside, the inside of the shopping center was like stepping into the center of the sun. Bright lights glowed from high ceilings that were painted a glossy white. Neon and backlit signs lined the corridor over each store. Each boutique was fronted with windows that did nothing to hamper the spillage of additional illumination that came from inside to pool on the tile floors in front of each respective establishment. It was almost overwhelming to their sensitive eyes. 

There were no throngs of people inside, but those who were perusing the corridors did so with a purpose and wholly ignored the ragtag lovers as they walked timidly, looking at each display and contemplating its usefulness. "I'm not sure where to go," Paysha sighed as they looked at a window full of scant clothing. "None of this looks like what we need."

"Patience, Love," Jean Louis replied. "I think I see something." He held her shoulders and steered her through a small crowd of teenagers staring intently at their cell phones. They maneuvered past a grouping of potted greenery to the other side of the corridor, on the corner to another piece of the maze, until they were safely inside the department store. "See?" he said, proud of his find as he gestured toward a display of cozy sweaters.

Paysha chuckled. "You did well, my love." She touched the fabric of the one closest to her and felt its softness as she gingerly rubbed her fingers together. It felt like angora. She pulled it from the rack and began looking at others. 

"I'm going to the men's department," Jean Louis announced with a peck on her cheek. "I have a feeling you'll be a while."

Immediately after purchasing their new clothing, they rushed to the closest restrooms and changed out of their old garments. Paysha chose an emerald green sweater that complemented her complexion, a pair of dark blue jeans, and a pair of brown hiking style boots. When Jean Louis emerged, she smiled because he also chose a green flannel shirt, jeans and hiking boots. "Did you keep your other clothing?" she asked, trying to look into the bags he carried.

He shook his head. "I thought they were too far gone to keep."

"Well," she sighed, "I kept mine. Just in case we need them again, for anything."

"Do you want me to go back in and get mine?" he asked, even though he already knew what she planned to say. Before waiting for the answer, he turned around and returned to the restroom to retrieve his abandoned clothing.

While Jean Louis was gone, Paysha waited. She sat down on a hard wooden bench near the center of the aisle, flanked on either side by a large potted tree. As she waited, she fiddled with the handles of the shopping bags that sat on the floor in front of her, and she watched the other shoppers as they passed by without a second glance. It felt good to have some semblance of anonymity again. 

A woman held a small child on her hip and pointed out some toys in a shop window. The woman had a brown, woolen parka lined with fur on, a pair of khaki-colored pants and sneakers. Her child was dressed in her own bright red parka, a knit cap from under which her blond pigtails hung, some black, fleece leggings and shiny, patent leather boots. 

Paysha was so enthralled with the mother and child that she did not notice when someone else sat down next to her on the bench. 

"You are other," a voice whispered beside her, startling her. Paysha turned with caution and came face to face with the mysterious person in the black hoodie from the bus. "You are other," the person said, still hiding under the hoodie. What Paysha could see was a pale-skinned, pointed chin with whisps of black hair curled under it in tendrils that led from inside the hood. Below the baggy hoddie, long legs clad in black pants stretched out. The person wore heavy, leather biker-style boots.

She didn't want to answer until she knew who she was talking with. "Who are you?" she demanded.

The figure only repeated, "You are other."

A rivulet of fright crept its way down Paysha's spine. She held her hands out as a defensive reflex and attempted to scoot away enough to get up and run towards the men's restroom to find Jean Louis.

The person grasped her wrists in a flash. "You are other." With a backwards flick of their head, the hood fell away and revealed a woman with chiseled features, long black hair, ice blue eyes, and alabaster skin. She pursed her pink lips, then smiled just enough to reveal the two ivory points of her own extended canines. "I am other," she said. "I could feel you on the bus."

Paysha blushed, embarrassed at her own fright. "You are one of us," she whispered. "What is your name?" 

"Kristin," the woman answered. "Why are you here?"

Paysha shifted uncomfortably. She assumed the woman did not ask her name because she was a mind reader. "My name is Paysha," she introduced anyway. "I am here as a tourist with my husband, Jean Louis." She did not want to reveal the purpose of their journey to a stranger, especially one who might use their information for ill-gotten gain. 

Jean Louis approached them with a quizzical look. He saw the stranger, now unmasked, and read the concern on Paysha's face. He came to a stop facing both of them, his tall, lanky form towering over them, and placed the shopping bags he carried next to those by Paysha's feet. Placing his hand on Paysha's shoulder, he smiled. "Darling, you've made a friend," he exclaimed. "Won't you please introduce us?"

With a sigh of relief, Paysha stood up next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Darling," she replied as she gestured towards the stranger, "This is the young woman that was on the bus with us. Her name is Kristin." 

Kristin stood and shook Jean Louis' outstretched hand. "You must be Jean Louis," she said, "We were just talking about you." Her voice was soft, but took on an accent not unlike the Swedish that surrounded them. She revealed herself to him as well. "We are other," she whispered.

He was as taken aback as Paysha was and drew in a sharp breath. "Perhaps we should go somewhere to talk," he suggested as he leaned down to take charge of the shopping bags. "Somewhere a bit more private."

"I agree," Kristin replied. Her eyes tracked the two of them with predatory cunning, like a panther getting ready to pounce. "We have much to discuss."

The three of them wove their way through the labyrinthine corridors and exited the shopping mall through a lesser-used side entrance. Kristin attempted to hail a cab, but was stopped by Jean Louis. "If it's not far," he explained, "I think we'd rather walk."

She shrugged. "It's not," she said, "However, the streets at night are less benign than they are during the day." Her eyes scanned the lovers. "Then again, I have a feeling you've seen so much more than you're letting on." She led the three of them down a back alley into the shadows of Uppsala.


	13. Chapter #13

The building was a relic - windows broken, brick soot-stained and graffiti-covered. It loomed over the outskirts of the city like an evil overlord, menacing and full of dark secrets. Despite the cleanliness of the rest of the city, the block around the edifice was filthy, littered with detritus and dead leaves that now formed a rotting carpet along the cracked sidewalk. The clouds above seemed to swirl into darkness, adding an additional layer to the impending sense of doom that pervaded Jean Louis and Paysha as Kristin led them up the broken concrete steps to the main entrance. "Are you sure this is where we need to go?" Paysha asked as Kristin pushed her entire weight against the heavy iron door in order to move it a few inches.

"Yes," Kristin grunted. She leaned back and used her arm to gauge the opening to see if she needed to push any more. It was not enough. "You could help open this, you know?" she said in exasperation.

The three of them were able to open it. They stepped into the darkness and realized the inside was what remained after a massive fire. "How long has it been like this?" Jean Louis asked as he looked around at the charred walls and the broken timbers from the floor above. The inferno was enough in the past that Mother Nature was already taking over. Vines crept their way into every opening they could, twisting and turning, curling around supports and the skeletons of wrought iron that remained. Tree sapling grew, now dormant for the winter, their bony branches reaching towards a hole in the roof where, presumably, the sun shown during the lighter months. The floor was covered with a velvety combination of young grasses and mosses, probably seeded by the birds that nested in the rafters.

"There was a fire about 5 years ago," Kristin answered. "We need to go this way." 

She led them across the soft floor and through a stone doorway at the far end of the room into another room that appeared untouched by the fire. A warm fire burned in a fireplace opposite the doorway, which surprised Jean Louis because he didn't see or smell any tendrils of smoke in the area. The walls and ceilings were painted a bright white, the floor was finished in white tile and covered in various places with soft, woolen throw rugs. There was a wooden bar to their immediate right that had a mirrored wall beyond it and shelves with top-shelf liquor. To their left was a credenza upon which was stacked several books in varying ages, some open, some not. In the center of the room was a grouping of comfortable furniture, sensible and showcasing the Swedish ideal of minimalism. In one of the armchairs, was a man. He looked older than they did, age having seen fit to wizen him with lines at his eyes. Some of his jet black hair was streaked with gray. "Welcome," he smiled as he turned towards them. "Please have a seat." He gestured towards the empty sofa opposite him. His voice was smooth and ageless.

Jean Louis and Paysha accepted his invitation and sat down. They were on edge and did not relax into the comfort of the room. "Who are you?" Jean Louis asked. "What do you want with us?"

The man laughed, his deep chortle echoed into the farthest crevices of the structure. "I could ask you the same," he answered. "But seeing as how you've asked me first, I have no choice but to acquiesce." He leaned forward and angled his body towards them. It was an unconscious but wholly effective gesture meant to establish himself as the dominant one in the room. "My name is Matias. I am an Other, like you, but I am an ancient one." He leaned back into his chair and clasped his hands together in front of his chest, an action that was benign on its own, but combined with the entirety of his demeanor, gave Paysha the chills. "I have been searching out others of my own kind and where better to set up operations than in a location where there are months of nothing but night?"

"We are doing the same," Jean Louis explained. He did not want to introduce himself and especially did not want to introduce Paysha. There was something about the situation that left an uncomfortable niggling in his mind. He did not trust Matias.

Matias smiled, but it was menacing. "You omitted your names. Now, normal company would see that as rudeness and a disregard for the decorum of meeting someone with whom you've not been acquainted with before."

Jean Louis shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Paysha cleared her throat. "You already know who we are, though," she said. "As you also know why we are here."

"How very astute," Matias replied. "In fact, I do know who you are. I have my ways." His grin extended into something that was more akin to baring his teeth at them. "And, if what you tell me is true, then I have no qualms with your presence here. But," he sapped his hand on his knee and leered at them, "If there is anything you are not telling me about your visit here, I shall see that as an unforgivable transgression that will be dealt with accordingly." His eyes seemed to glow red in the light of the fire.

Paysha stood to leave, but a gesture of Matias' hand and all the strength of her legs could not help her stay upright. She slammed back into the sofa. "What the hell?" she yelled in surprise.

"You will leave when I see it appropriate for you to leave," Matias commanded. "You are in my domain and will respect as such." He relaxed his hand and Paysha felt the pressure release. "I intend to treat you as guests and expect you to behave in accordance."

"Guests are allowed to leave when they see fit," Paysha argued. "If you mean to keep us here against our wills, 'Prisoner' is a much better title."

He turned towards Kristin, who stood silent in the corner. "Please bring our guests some refreshments," he directed. "They will be here a while."

"Yes, Master," she replied before leaving the room on silent feet.

"My daughter is a mouse," Matias chuckled. "I suppose you wonder what she is doing here with the likes of myself. I saved her years ago, when she was alone on the streets of Stockholm, a runaway. I took her under my wing and she has been like a daughter to me ever since."

Kristin reentered the room, a pair of children behind her, tethered by collars to the leashes she held in her hand. They looked to be no older than ten, their innocent faces still chubby with the remnants of baby fat. The taller one, a boy, had shaggy, dirty blond hair that hung in his eyes. He wore a stained t-shirt and well-worn pair of jeans, but his feet were bare as they slapped across the cold tile of the floor. The shorter child, a girl, had brunette hair that was cut to a bob, just below her chin. She looked at them from dark brown eyes that were fearful and haunted. "Please," she pleaded, her voice not directed to anyone specific, rather just to whoever would listen.

Matias grabbed the leashed from Kristen's hand as she neared his armchair and yanked the children until they stood in front of him. "Such succulent young morsels," he hissed. "Just perfect for the taking."

Paysha was mortified. "You can't keep these children here to feed on!" she exclaimed. "It's wrong... immoral."

His laugh was pure evil as he pulled the young boy towards him and sunk his fangs into the tender flesh. 

Jean Louis took that moment of vulnerability to leap from the sofa and lunge towards Matias. In a flash, he grabbed the tether to the girl's collar and sliced it in half. "Run!" he whispered in her ear. She took a moment to absorb what was happening, then bolted for the open door. Matias released his bloodied canines from his victim and lifted his hand to overpower Jean Louis, but it was too late. A razor sharp hunting knife came down across his wrist and severed his hand, sending it twitching and bleeding to the ground. In pain and surprise, he looked up to see who dared thwart him. It was Kristin. 

"I've waited years to do this," she seethed. "I hate you with all that I am and all that I will ever be." She knew that his weakened state would remain only so long. Reaching behind her back, she pulled a syringe filled with infected blood and plunged it into his heart. "I hope you die," she growled, "slowly and painfully."

Matias gasped, his mouth agape at the turn of events, and collapsed into the chair. His eyes closed and the room reverted to what it truly was, a burned-out hollow of a building. The burning fireplace was nothing but a campfire burning in an old steel drum barrel, the sofa and chairs, nothing more than piles of moldering, mildewed blankets. The glamour he'd put on them fell away as his strength faded

The boy fell to the ground in front of him, drained of most of his life's blood. Paysha ran to his side and picked him up, draping him over her shoulders. "We should get him to the hospital," she told Jean Louis, "he's lost a lot of blood."

Jean Louis agreed. He looked at Kristin as she stood almost cemented into place. "Will you come with us?" he asked her.

Kristin smiled. "I'd like that," she said as her entire body relaxed. 

They moved towards the door. The girl was cowered next to the charred brick. She watched Kristin and flinched when Kristin held her hand out to her. "I think I better handle this," Jean Louis said. He turned toward the girl and crouched down to her level. "I'm not going to hurt you," he assured, his voice low and calm. "What's your name?"

"Lucy," she replied, then pointed to the boy in Paysha's arms, "And that's Ben."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Lucy," Jean Louis smiled. "Will you let me help you?"

She nodded and slowly moved into his outstretched arms. He wrapped his arms around her and lifted her as he stood up. He followed Paysha and Kristin through the door and back out the building, but glanced back at Matias before he was completely out of view. The man was still in the same position, slumped against the rags and not moving. 

The city was asleep and its landscape changed to match the abandoned building. "Where's the hospital?" Paysha asked.

"A few blocks away," Kristin answered. There was nothing to do but walk. The buses were shut down for the night, there was no way to call a taxi and hailing one was out of the question because they were in a place where none ever drove to find fares. She helped them navigate the sidewalks, leading them until the hospital was in sight. "I'll wait here," she said as she stopped at a storefront and sat down.

"Don't you want to come in, even just to warm up?" Jean Louis asked.

Kristin shook her head. "I'm afraid they know me there," she answered. "My mum works as a night nurse there." She didn't want to explain any more and didn't want to face the inevitable questions that were sure to appear the moment someone in the hospital saw her face. She especially did not want to see her mother and have to explain where she lived all these years, and with whom. She didn't want to break her mother's heart.

The sad look in her eyes was enough for the others to trust that the story was not one that Kristin was ready to tell, or that she would ever want to. They nodded and continued trudging towards the emergency room doors. 

It seemed hours before Jean Louis and Paysha returned. Kristin was lying curled up in the doorway, covered completely by her hoodie - a position in which she could have easily been mistaken for trash. She heard them calling her name and she uncovered herself. "I'm still here," she yawned as she sat up.

"Let's get to the hostel," Paysha smiled. "We have quite a walk in front of us."

Kristen stood and pulled her hoodie around her. "Will the kids be alright?" she asked.

"They'll be fine," Jean Louis answered. "It turns out they were listed as missing. Their parents are on the way to the hospital as we speak. Ben had some blood loss, but they gave him a transfusion. Lucy was better, though a bit hungry. They'll stay overnight, but should be able to leave tomorrow."

"What did you tell them happened?" Kristin wondered. "I mean, you couldn't exactly have told them the kids were attacked by a vampire."

Paysha laughed. "No, we couldn't," she agreed. "We told them that we heard some crying in the abandoned building. We found the kids in there and we thought they'd been attacked. That way the doctors could draw their own conclusions."

It was a relief. "That's good," Kristin sighed. "I'm ready to go."


	14. Chapter 14

Kristin woke first. She was curled up on the corner at the end of the bed nearest Paysha's feet, and closest to the window that emitted a dull glow around the blackout shade that hung over it. The room was cool, but not uncomfortable, but she pulled a blanket around her as she got up. Paysha stirred a little as the weight on the mattress shifted, but relaxed into sleep again as she stretched out. Jean Louis rolled over and draped his lengthy arm over Paysha's shoulders, but otherwise stayed asleep.

The door let out a tiny creak as Kristin opened it, then a sigh as the bottom swished across the linoleum as she closed it. The hallway was unoccupied as she traversed it and made her way to the elevator at the end. It was the silent time when no one is awake - the other tenants of the hostel were asleep because it was either too early to wake up, or too late because they partook of too much of the local nightlife. when the elevator opened to the lobby floor, she stepped out. It, too was vacant, save for the night clerk that snoozed at the desk and took no notice of an errant visitor, much less one that was wrapped in a blanket and may or may not be sleep walking.

There was a door to the left of the hostel desk, upon which was a small, engraved sign that read "Common Room." It was through this door that Kristin stepped, pushing it open with a silent touch, letting it close behind her with nothing more than a whisper.

A fire burned in a gas-lit fireplace at the far end, which was flanked by two built-in book shelves that were filled with paperbacks that had seen better days. Two stained wing-back chairs faced each other in front of the fireplace with a matching, stained, shared ottoman between them. Kristin smiled and walked towards the chair on the left. She skimmed the titles of the books on the shelf and picked out one well-worn copy of Swedish Fairy Tales, then sat down in the chair with her feet tucked under her and began to read.

Paysha sat bolt upright in bed and slapped her hand across Jean Louis' back in the process. "Where is she?" she gasped as she scanned the dark room. 

"What?" Jean Louis yawned. He began to scoot himself up and shrugged her hand off his back. "Who are you talking about?"

She stared at him like he was insane. "Kristin," she answered, obviously perturbed. "She's not here."

"Maybe she decided to lie on the floor," he shrugged. "Maybe you kicked her too much in your sleep."

Paysha picked up her pillow and swung it at him, barely missing his face. The pillow made a soft "fwump" sound as it hit the wall. "She's not here," she repeated.

He threw the blankets off his legs as he pivoted so his legs hung off the side of the bed, then stood up and grabbed the pair of jeans he'd folded neatly on the nightstand. "She probably went for a walk," he said as he slid them on. "She won't go far."

She got out of bed and began to get dressed, too. "I'm not so sure about that," she sighed. "Can we really trust her?" Her mind whirled with possibilities. She knew they were too trusting before, that the girl led them to Matias and possible destruction, but she was also aware of Kristin's actions in the aftermath. She answered herself, "I'm just not sure."

Jean Louis shook his head. "I don't feel any evil from her," he explained. 

Paysha scowled. "Well, then, she has some explaining to do."

They left the room and locked the door. A young couple was tittering in secrecy on the way to their room, obviously drunk and stumbling as they used the wall for support. They didn't pay any attention to the presence of the undead and floundered past Paysha and Jean Louis until they reached their own room and let themselves inside. "That would have been easy to partake of," Jean Louis quipped, "Except they were not healthy."

"Let's hope the others in this hostel don't turn into that," Paysha quipped as they made their way to the elevator.

After searching the dormitories and the floor below for Kristin with no luck, they moved to the lobby floor. "I don't think she's here," Paysha lamented. 

"Don't worry, my darling," Jean Louis soothed as he put his arms around her. "I have every confidence that we will find her and she will be as right as rain."

The elevator doors opened and they stepped out. The miniscule illumination that passed through the window was the closes they'd come to daylight in the days they'd been in Sweden and it was paltry enough that they could walk undaunted past the casements without any problem. The day clerk manned the desk. He was perkier than the night clerk, in that he smiled when they walked past him and greeted the young man that entered the hostel at that moment with a muffled enthusiasm. "Have you seen a young girl pass through?" Jean Louis asked. 

"I see many," the clerk answered with a sharp point of snark in his voice.

Jean Louis described her. "It's imperative that we find her," he finished.

The clerk took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. "No, I have not seen anyone with that description," he groaned, "But you might want to try the common room." He pointed at the door to the side of his desk. "Maybe she went in there to get away from things."

Paysha grumbled under her breath, something about unhelpful people, as they walked to the door. She pushed it open with enough force that it hit the rubber door stop on the wall with a decisive "thwack."

"How rude! I'm reading here," came a voice from one of the chairs at the far end. 

Jean Louis smiled. "Kristin, is that you?" he called.

She peeked from around the side of the wing -back chair. "Yeah," she answered. "I couldn't sleep anymore." Kristin pointed to the other chair and the ottoman. "Why don't you two come on over and have a seat," she invited. "I have something I want to talk with you about."

Paysha shot jean Louis a puzzled look as they made their way to the other end of the room. He shrugged. They sat down, Jean Louis on the ottoman, Paysha on the other wing-back chair. "What's going on?" she asked.

Kristin leaned down and set her book on the floor at her feet, then clasped her hands and set her chin on them with her elbows balanced on her knees. "I need to be entirely truthful with you," she took a deep breath. "I was sent to find you," she admitted, then sat up and leaned back into the chair, arms crossed in front of her - a defensive gesture that showed she was ready for the onslaught of questions and accusations she was sure was coming from her companions.

"We figured," Jean Louis replied, then asked, "Why?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

She smiled. "I knew you would ask," she answered. "Matias knew you were coming and he was the one that sent me." She shifted in her chair and dropped her hands to her lap. "I'm not sure how he knew, but he asked me to find you and bring you to him."

Paysha scrunched her eyebrows together. "Did you know what would happen?"

Kristin nodded. "He'd been talking about building himself an army of Other. I assumed that is why he wanted you."

"What about the children?" That had been first and foremost Paysha's concern. She hated thinking that Kristin had been such a willing accomplice to something so heinous. "Did you know what he wanted to do with them?"

At first, Kristin began to shake her head, but then she stopped. "I'd love to say I am innocent," she groaned, "But I'm not. I knew full well what was going to happen to those children. It has happened to them before." She turned her eyes down and continued. "You were not the first others that came into our city. There have been more. Those children were taken with the intent that they would be used for feeding, but kept alive and that, when they were grown, they would join the ranks as payment. It's what Matias did to me."

What first began in Paysha as revulsion transformed into sympathy for the girl. "How old were you when he took you?" She reached across and placed a gentile hand on Kristin's knee.

"I was ten." A tear filled Kristin's eye and rolled down her cheek. "He took me from my mum when I was ten. I begged and begged to go to my aunt's house on the public transit. I wanted to play with my cousins. She normally wouldn't let me, but this time, she thought I was old enough, I guess. I got there without any problem and spent a wonderful afternoon there, but the sun started to set and my aunt wanted me to get home before it got too dark. Matias was on that bus ride home, though I was not aware of him.

"When I got off the bus and started walking towards home, he followed me. He told me he'd been sent by my mum to retrieve me because she'd fallen ill. He talked like he knew her, like he knew my family. I was a smart kid and I knew about not talking to strangers, but he knew things that only someone that was close to her would know, so I followed him.

"I thought he was taking me to the hospital, or the urgent care clinic near it, but I realized too late that we were not going to either of those places. Instead, he took me to the warehouse." She couldn't look at them, she was too ashamed. Instead she turned her head and gazed into the yellow flames of the fire as it flickered behind the glass next to her. Warmth emanated from it, but that didn't stop the wave of chills that flowed through her body. "I don't want to make excuses, I just thought you should know," she said sadly.

Paysha stood up and approached her, sidestepping Jean Louis' long legs as she did. "You're not making excuses," she soothed. She wanted to take the girl into her arms and embrace her, just to let her know that she was forgiven. "He preyed on you."

"It's a case of Stockholm Syndrome," Jean Louis quipped before a sharp look from Paysha prompted a follow-up, "No pun intended."

Kristin wept as Paysha smoothed her hair and cradled her in her arms, as much as she could. "I didn't mean it," she sobbed, "I really didn't."

"At ten, you are vulnerable," Paysha whispered. "He took advantage of you for years. How old were you when he turned you?"

"Eighteen," she answered. "If I was still human, I'd be 25 now."

"So, you've been under his influence for over half your life," Jean Louis interjected. "I find it admirable that you were able to do what you did back at the warehouse." When Kristin cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at him, he explained, "You know, helping us kill him, saving the kids..."

She shook her head. "I've done horrible things... I need to make amends."

There was a noise at the door as the desk clerk entered the room. "Sorry," he apologized, "I have someone here looking for a Paysha?"

"That's me," Paysha said as she stood. The clerk had gone from clueless to blindly ambivalent. "Who is it."

He stood with his hands on his hips and body language that emoted his lack of care over the situation. "Some woman. I don't know." He rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

Paysha was curious, but she waved Jean Louis and Kristin back as she followed the clerk out of the room. They heard her gasp just as the door closed.


	15. Chapter #15

Paysha wept while Jean Louis attempted to console her. His heart was also broken, but he was well aware of the fact that she needed him to be her rock, her calm in the midst of the emotional storm that rocked their world. She said nothing except an occasional distraught, "Why?" before collapsing into him again. 

"Shhh, Darling," he said each time while he caressed her hair and held her in his arms. This was not a Paysha he was accustomed to seeing. His Paysha was strong, resilient, headstrong. This version of her was broken, terrified, remorseful. His focus was so directed at her that he almost forgot there were other people in the room.

Kristin sat on the far side of the bed entertaining the child that sat next to her. The child was a husk of her former self, disheveled and dirty, would barely utter a word and cowered in fear if anyone rose their voice. Inanna stood in the corner and turned her thoughts inward. She refused to answer any questions and Jean Louis could tell she blamed herself. She collapsed after she related the experience to them and remained silent afterwards.

The nightmare began shortly after dusk, just as the women in the Bedouin camp began preparing for the evening meal. The dark man appeared from nowhere on the darkest side of camp, the tents near the livestock, and demanded he be taken to whoever was in charge. His stature alone was not enough to illicit a response from the shepherds, but his twisted visage was. He was dressed in a black cloak and hat and the flesh on his face and hands was scarred as though he was burned alive. The dark eyes that peered out of his heavy brow were hateful and pierced the soul like an icicle. Feeling it was life or death, one of the men volunteered. He brought the Dark Man to the bonfire.

Fadil was the one who stood up to face him. With an air of authority, he asked the Dark Man why he was there, what he wanted. There was a flurry of movement and in less than a second, Fadil was struck down, blood pouring from a gash in his throat as he struggled to breathe. A scream brought Nadra running from the tent where she was helping prepare food, all three of her children at her heels. She saw her husband and fell to her knees, cradling his head with disregard to the blood that covered her hands and her robes. Tears cascaded from her eyes as he drew his last gasp. She looked at the madman and asked, "How could you? He was a good man." 

The Dark Man laughed and the sound sent a chill through all that stood nearby. The audience was frozen, their faces macabre masks that reflected the terror they felt, yet were unable to act upon. He saw the babies that clung to Nadra's arms and pulled them away from her, gathering their squirming, screaming bodies in his arms as she let go of Fadil and tried to reach for them. He moved out of her reach and gave her a sinister smile before burying his mouth in Ruh's fleshy neck. The youngster wiggled and cried out in pain only to go limp and pale as the man drained the life blood from him. Faiz fussed and moved just enough and in just the right way that he fell from the man's arm while he was feeding on Ruh. Nadra caught him before he hit the hard, sandy ground and attempted to run away with him. The Dark Man caught her by the back of the neck. "Not so fast, woman," he snarled as he pulled her to him. His claws dug into the soft flesh at her nape and drew red rivulets that gathered and ran down her skin only to be caught and absorbed by the dark fabric of her robes. 

"No!" Nadra squealed. "You will not hurt my babies!" She drew attention to herself as Fadil let go and shimmied down her leg. "I will die before you do any more damage." She narrowed her eyes at the man and stared him down.

He didn't notice that the boy was gone. "Have it your way," he chuckled as he stabbed her through the heart with a dagger he pulled from his breast pocket. 

Her eyes widened as she gurgled. The blood welled in her throat and bubbled from her mouth as the life drained from her body. 

Inanna watched from the slit in her tent. She couldn't move to save her friends and she felt helpless until she spied Halimah crawling along the ground, through the feet of the crowd of frozen villagers, with Fadil right behind her. She ushered the children into the tent just in time to see the Dark Man toss Nadra's limp corpse onto the roaring bonfire. She closed the tent just as he scanned his surroundings for the child he lost. "Be silent," she commanded Halimah as she hid them in a pit dug beneath her pallet, "And keep him quiet as well." There was no room in the pit for herself, so she laid upon the pallet and covered herself in pelts and blankets and did her best to shield them all from detection. 

She knew who the Dark Man was and Inanna knew that their only means of escape was to get far away from him. There was no hope for anyone who didn't and, while she came to care for the tribe as she stayed with them, she also felt in her heavy heart that it was impossible to save any more than the two children she was hiding. Their only chance was to use the slaughter of their kinfolk as a distraction long enough to stay hidden and then leave a dawn's first light. 

The hours dragged by and the horrific sounds of the torture and slaughter through the muffling of the blankets over her head did nothing to assuage the overwhelming guilt she had over saving herself, again. This time, though, she had the lives of two precious children in her hands. As the sounds from outside began to subside, she peeked out from under the blankets. Daylight began to illuminate the fabric of the tent. 

While she no longer felt the dark presence, Inanna wanted to be completely assured that Halimah and Fadil would be safe. She climbed from her hiding place and peeked into the dark chamber beneath it. The soft, even sound of sleep wafted from inside on the sweet breath of the children. She smiled and lowered the pallet, satisfied that they were safe. She wrapped herself in a blanket to protect herself from the sun's deadly rays and exited the dwelling.

Outside was not peaceful. The stark daylight added a harsh filter to the grim reality. The entire tribe was dead. Blood spattered every inch of tent, every grain of sand, entrails were draped about like decorations at a gruesome celebration. Heads rested upon the fence posts close to the livestock, their flesh and features picked at by scavengers, most of them unrecognizable. Even without the added revulsion from her heightened sense of smell, the stench was atrocious. The corpses were not yet beginning to rot, but their manner of death was more than enough to make her pinch her nose closed with her fingers. 

The Dark Man was gone and Inanna wanted to spare the children from the nightmarish sight of their friends and family as they were left to rot. She scattered the embers of the still-burning fire among the closest tents and raced to her own to wake up her charges. They were groggy when she lifted the backside of the tent and rushed them, wrapped in their own blankets, towards the only place she saw devoid of the carnage, the open desert. Behind them, the flames picked up and began to consume the caravan. What little smoke wafted in their direction smelled of the grease of bodies as they charred in the inferno.

Inanna told Paysha that she knew where to head because she overheard the discussions of Morocco and of the long, dark winters in the north. She hoped she could find them and followed leads and sightings of them through the dirty streets of Tangier and tracked them to Stockholm at the airport. "My finances," she admitted, "Were obtained using some unscrupulous measures," but she managed to purchase tickets for herself and her charges, with enough money left to feed them before they left. 

With no identification, she resorted to glamouring the ticket agents and the airline staff in Tangier, and then again, the customs agents as they arrived in Stockholm. With luck behind her, she managed to hail the same cab driver that Jean Louis and Paysha used, who remembered dropping them off at the Hostel. She promised him payment upon arrival and, while he was not keen on the idea of delayed payment, accepted on account of the children. He even fronted her some cash to purchase some soup and bread for the hungry children from a street vendor on their way to Uppsala. 

When they arrived at the hostel, she left Halimah and Fadil in the cab as proof she would pay, even though the driver didn't doubt her sincerity. After the initial shock, Paysha, of course, ran outside to pick up the tab. The children hurried out of the back seat and rushed to her, clinging to her as the cabbie drove away. Halimah looked much older than her years, the stress and horror of the last few days etched in emotion that wizened her eyes and caused her smile to curve down. Fadil was less aware of what happened to his family. He was too young to comprehend the loss, though he cried out for his mother when they arrived, only to be hushed by his sister. 

They were allowed to rest for one day in the hostel with Jean Louis and Paysha, with a hefty payment to the desk clerk and the promise that they would be gone the following evening. 

The children were fed with food procured from a market on the other side of the street, all items that didn't need cooking in order to be edible, and were bedded down in the room for the evening while Inanna, Jean Louis, Paysha and Kristin gathered in the small common area at the end of the hallway to plan. 

Inanna remained silent until asked one imperative question: "Do you have any idea where we should look for the Brethren?" Jean Louis wondered.

She came out of her silent reverie and her eyes drilled into his soul. "North," she answered. 

Jean Louis hoped for more from her, but was disappointed when she closed herself off again and walked away from the group. "I guess that's where we're going, now, isn't it?" He presented it in general to the rest of his companions. 

Paysha nodded in agreement, but Kristin spoke up. "It's a plan," she said. 

He smiled, though half-heartedly. "We leave this evening."


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short update before the holidays. I hope you enjoy it!

The trip was tedious and almost as taxing on them as trudging across the desert. There were direct flights from Uppsala to the dot on the map closest to where Inanna pointed her finger, Korsfjorden, Norway, but they opted for a much slower, though also less crowded, mode of travel - by car. The drive was mapped at a little over 17 hours. Inanna was able to procure them a passenger van from a car rental company, though none of them was sure how she managed it, and they packed themselves into it as soon as she returned from the lot. 

By the time they arrived, a sliver of daylight loomed along the horizon, but they were far enough north, now, that it posed no threat. Korsfjorden rested along a small spit of land along the famous Norwegian fjords, a small fishing village with a view that was spectacular in the fringes of dawn, its coastline colored with yellows and oranges contrasting with the gray blue of the Norwegian Sea. 

Their itinerary did not include a stop to see the sights, however, and the minutiae of the scenery was lost among the shuffle of stopping to retrieve food for the children and allowing them to stretch their legs and relieve themselves before piling into the van, once again. Despite the conditions and the reason for their presence, both Halimah and Fadil were in good spirits and their easygoing natures proved compatible with the long hours of travel, which was helpful given Inanna's instruction to pass through Korsfjorden and head into the hills further inland. She operated on instincts only as she closed her eyes and navigated, like a ship's captain following a star. The terrain was rough as asphalt faded into dirt forest roads and the van hopped and lunged through the dips and rises deeper into the forest, though the elevation gain meant the snowfall graduated into higher and higher drifts, until they could drive no longer. 

"It's not much more," Inanna assured as they exited the van and bundled in what blankets they could. 

Jean Louis picked up Halimah and hoisted her onto his back where she clutched tightly around his shoulders. "Hold on," he instructed, "We're going to be going really fast." She nodded and smiled back at him.

Fadil was bundled safely in Paysha's arms and Kristin followed at the back of the group with her arms full of what belongings of theirs they could carry. Their speed was enough to keep them from plunging in and their footfalls barely made a mark. The forest became a blur of blinding white punctuated by an occasional ancient, gigantic deciduous tree. They stuck to the indentation where the forest road was meant to be, until they reached a clearing and a dead end. As they stopped, their feet began to sink into the wet layer of recent snow. "Oh no!" Halimah whined in worry. 

"It's through those trees," Inanna said as she pointed to a break in the treeline. she appeared to take flight as she rose out of the snow and propelled herself in the direction of the break. The others followed suit and soon they were all standing in another clearing. This one, however was walled off by the snow drifts, which acted as protection around several small, wooden houses that were rough-hewn with heavily thatched roofs meant to disguise them from above. The village seemed abandoned, except for the tendrils of smoke that rose through the chimneys and evaporated into the frigid air. 

Jean Louis set Halimah down, her feet crunching on the hard ground as the vapor of her warm breath joined the smoke in the air. "I wonder where everyone is?" he wondered aloud. "Wherever this is."

A noise sounded behind him, a creak, that caught his attention. He spun around in time to see a man in one of the houses emerge through the door and stand with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes fixed on them with an icy gaze. Other doors began opening, other residents emerging and joining the man in solidarity. A pall fell over the village and the quaint, quiet vibe it had when they arrived was transformed into an unwelcome feeling of stone cold silence. Even Halimah felt it and she cowered closer to Jean Louis' leg with a shiver. "Who are you?" the man asked, or demanded. "Why are you here?"

Inanna stepped forward and scrutinized him before she answered. "We're looking for The Brethren," she finally said, "If they still exist."

He nodded as he spoke. "Who are you to The Brethren?"

"I am Inanna, of the Sahara," her voice fell to whisper. 

"We have heard of you," he smiled. "You are welcome here, as are your companions." As he stepped forward he extended a hand for her and as she grasped his, he knelt and kissed it. This was the same for each in their party, until he came to Halimah. She refused to take his hand, instead choosing to take shelter behind Jean Louis' legs. "You're not one of us, little one," he hissed after her, "I can smell your sweet life force." She pulled back further as he tried to lunge after her.

Jean Louis caught him by his collar. "She's off limits to you!" he growled as he pulled the man up to face him.

In an instant, the man's face transformed from predator to prey and the fear in his eyes showed. "Alright," he mewled as he put up his hands in mock surrender. He backed up and shook himself from Jean Louis' grip.

A woman emerged from the crowd that gathered around them. Her face was wizened, her ancient eyes betraying her immortal physical age, which looked to be in her early 20s. She wore a heavy sweater, jeans, and sherpa-lined, black leather boots. "Inanna?" she said, her voice apprehensive, as she moved closer to the travelers. "It's me, Vera."

Inanna was stunned for a moment, then rushed into the woman's arms, crying, "Vera, my sister!" They embraced and sobbed into each others' shoulders for several minutes before letting go and studying each other. "I've missed you so."

"How did you know where to come?" Vera asked. "We've been here for ages and I was afraid you'd never find us." she didn't mention that she wasn't sure Inanna would want to find them.

With a deep breath, Inanna replied, "I had a feeling." What remained unsaid was her feeling contained an impending sense of doom that rippled up her spine and left her reeling, especially after the loss of the Bedouin she felt were kindred spirits. Though her ties with The Brethren were cut in what seemed like eons ago, she knew that none of them would survive the storm that was inevitable.

There would be time to warm them of the danger, but now was not it.

Vera smiled at the troupe of vampires and mortals that found their way to her village. "You are all welcome for as long as you wish." 

Halimah, confident once again after her run in, stepped forward and tugged at Vera's sweater. "Is there any food?" she asked, her voice a low whisper. 

"Oh, my dear," Vera exclaimed, "You must be famished, child!" She spied Fadil in Paysha's arms and held her own out. "Give me that sweet thing and I will make sure both these dears get warmed and fed." 

Her companions looked to her for approval and Inanna nodded her head. "Vera is harmless," she said.

Vera's face was such a vision of warmth, Paysha handed Fadil over without question and watched as the woman walked happily away with the children and disappeared into one of the cabins. "She seems nice," she said. "And your sister?"

Inanna shook her head. "Figuratively. Vera was also in my village long ago, turned at the same time as I. She escaped after I did and helped establish The Brethren." Inanna did not want to elaborate. Instead she chose to walk away from the group in search of somewhere safe to think and observe. 

"Where can we stay?" Paysha asked another of the nearby women and was directed to one of the larger houses on the outskirts of the village. It looked somewhat abandoned, with the glass broken out of some of the windows, part of the roof sagging from the winter snow, but it was somewhere to lay their heads and sleep for a while.

The group gathered their belongings and trudged across the compound to their assigned lodging. The door creaked and threatened to fall off the hinges as Jean Louis opened it, but the structure seemed otherwise stable. He held it open as Paysha and Kristin passed through, then stepped across the threshold himself. The bottom of the door dragged across the ground as he closed it behind himself. 

Inside the building was a fine layer of dust that covered everything from the rough-hewn floors to the window sills to the well-worn furniture that was left there by a previous occupant. The light that filtered through the glass was dull, only slightly more so than what came through the broken windows. A stone fireplace was nestled under the low wall on the farthest side of the room, flanked on either side by a narrow window that looked out into the forest during the summer, but now was nothing but a vision of packed, white snow. A staircase led up to the upper level and was built from logs that were chopped in half and held together in a rudimentary fashion, with hammered-in pegs. 

When Kristin set the belongings down on an old, upholstered sofa that looked like it was hand-made, a cloud of dust motes rose into the air and made them all cough and sneeze. "Well, I guess this will have to do," she said as she cleared her throat. "At least until we fix it up."

"If we are here long enough to do so." Inanna's voice came from the front door. They were so busy ridding their respiratory systems from dust when she entered, they didn't hear her enter. Before anyone had a chance to answer, she continued, "I've been thinking... if I was able to find them here, who's to say he won't be able to." No one had to ask who the "he" was she referred to. 

Paysha embraced Inanna and felt her fear, colder than the icy breeze that swept through the cracked window. "You found them because you have a connection with them," she consoled. "Also, I'm sure he has no clue where to look. We started on hunches."

Inanna wiped her tears on Paysha's shoulder. "I suppose you're right," she sighed. "They're a long way from where they were when I left them."


	17. Chapter 17

They settled into the rhythm of life at the village within a couple days of their arrival. Paysha found the change relaxing, even more so than the lifestyle at he Bedouin camp, and enjoyed learning about the history of the Brethren in her talks with Vera and the other elders.

Their original commune was deep in the Himalayas, hidden in a remote valley between the peaks of Nemjung and Manaslu. While there was a variety of hiking trails in the area, they were so well disguised that they were rarely disturbed by the errant Sherpa. Those that did stumble upon them mistook it for another nearby village and they were happy to comply with rules of hospitality as they often fed their unexpected guests and let them rest overnight before embarking on their journey, once again. 

It was there that Inanna left them. 

After Inanna left them, there were few vampires left in their original community. The battle with the progenitor devastated them and left not only a trail of fatalities, but also destroyed their homes and belongings. Since they acclimated to the mountains, the decision was made to send a party of Brethren abroad to explore the remote regions of the north - the prevailing thought at the moment that the furthest areas would offer the most protection and the long, dark winters were more conducive to their society. 

The explorers were a mixture of elders and fledglings, though all were judged fit in mind, body and ability. Their human ages were young and what was considered old at the time; they were men and women that garnered respect from their contemporaries. Among them, a young woman of whom legends were told. Vera called her "Samarra" and spoke about her with reverence. She was a goddess in the flesh, by all accounts, though her power was not from action or brute strength, but rather from her heart, the beauty of her face, the countenance of her spirit. Samarra was described as lithe and graceful with a smooth complexion that looked the tone of alabaster. Her lips were the color of mulberry and her cascading hair black and shiny like the feathers of the ravens that visited their sanctuary. Samarra's intelligence was evident with the first glance of her evergreen eyes, which were just as apt to indicate a sharp flash of anger as they were to display the tenderness with which she often looked at her counterparts. Though she was fierce in her own right, she chose to hunt with a bow and arrow because she felt the more she could distance herself from her animal instincts, the better suited she was to choose the prey that was deserving of its fate, whether that prey consisted of large-scale mammals or humans.

While the party was gone, life at the village in the Himalayas went on as usual, thought every activity was tinted with the gauzy buzz of expectation. The elders calmed their nerves with sanguine teas mixed with herbal tinctures; the fledgling vampires busied themselves with learning and perfecting their individual abilities, often with hysterical results. Hunting was resumed with some regularity on the assumption that they would all move to a new settlement sooner than later and needed to have as much strength as they could muster. Preparations were made to transport those items they needed to carry with them, though few were left that couldn't get reproduced in the new village. They lived and they waited.

Eventually, the Brethren lost hope. One by one, the huts in their circle of protection were abandoned. There was little to no notice when someone left; they just ceased to be there any longer and there was an empty void in the community where they were. No one was really sure where the vampires that left went, but the hope was that they managed to find others and create their own homestead. Vera asked Paysha if she or Jean Louis met any in their journeys, but their sad answers were that they only heard about the Brethren from Inanna, so "No," was the likely answer. 

By the time there was word from any of the exploration party, the only residents of the little village in the Himalayas that were left were the elders, all five of them. Vera was the oldest and she held together not only hope for herself and the rest of the elders, but for the others as well, that they would find their way home, that word would make it out that there was a wonderful escape found for their community. Her hope was dashed when a lone vampire, a fledgling, appeared, bloodied and beaten to a state that was near death for a mortal. "Xavier," she sobbed as she held his broken body, "Tell me what happened."

By the time the boy had strength to tell the tale, the other elders gathered around. They each offered their own lifeblood in order that he would survive. Xavier gracefully declined. He settled into Vera's embrace, took a deep breath and wove a tale that made the attack of the progenitor pale in comparison. He told of the changes that happened in the world while they were coddled in their little hamlet, that the world was industrialized and that the mortal inhabitants no longer believed or feared their kind. They were relegated to myth and legend, stories that frightened the children. Wars and famine were normal occurrences, which was not unlike their early years, but they were much more deadly. Diseases of the blood proliferated and were harder to detect - this was the main cause of the loss of most of their fledglings. The elders of the party were easily overtaken by new machinations of men meant to destroy, the rest of the band dissipated to avoid a similar fate. When asked about the fate of Samarra, he replied, "She's gone."

The loss of Samarra did not represent the loss of their hope. Instead, it spurred them on to leave their hamlet themselves and find somewhere safe. They waited until Xavier was healthy enough to undertake another journey and disappeared into the mists of the night with nothing but their most prized possessions on their backs. They traversed across the northern Himalayas into Afghanistan, then joined a caravan of pilgrims headed across the desert to Jerusalem. From there, they followed the coast north - through Turkey and the Slavic nations before crossing into Germany, into Denmark and into Norway. Their travels were primarily on foot at night and spanned years, nearly a decade, before finding the snowy haven where they built their newest village. The entire way, they held hope that someone, anyone of the Brethren would re-emerge and join them, but that was never the case. There were few Others that they came across and of those, most were little better than feral creatures, violent and toxic, poisoned by the advances of the human world. 

Once settled, their community grew. Sometimes, it was the vagabond vampire that joined, other times an effort was made to find and turn a fledgling as a legacy to an elder. There were strict guidelines that were agreed upon and adhered to without question. Everyone wanted what was best for the Brethren and that included a stringent process for those that joined their ranks. Dissension was discouraged, as was venturing away from the village any further than necessary, which usually meant as far as the closest paved road. Since they decided on feeding only from the flora and fauna of the forest, hunting parties were arranged on a weekly basis and the most common prey was a land mammal, reindeer, moose, and the occasional lynx. The animals were not killed, merely drained just enough to feed the population until the next week.

The village operated under the same guidelines for decades and was the same when Paysha, Jean Louis, Kristin, Inanna, and the mortal children found it. The normal modus operandi for the Brethren was to segregate the newcomers from the population and educate them on the rules and regulations while they also kept a watchful eye for any red flags that would alert them to unfavorable traits. Those newcomers that did not pass the tests were taken far away, their memories of the place scrubbed by one particular vampire who found a special talent for conscious and subconscious manipulation among her repertoire of abilities. None had ever returned. It was because of Inanna's presence that the newest party was allowed to skip the formalities and were welcomed with open arms by the community.

Even though Halimah and Fadil were mortal, they, too, were embraced by the Brethren. Those who hunted often brought back smaller animals, like pheasants and hares, that were cooked up and served with root vegetables prepared just for them. The children were coddled and nourished with an education fit for the finest private schools, something the vampires insisted upon because they not only felt they were bound for something better and world-changing, but also because who better to teach history, languages, mathematics and sciences than a handful of ancient beings? 

Kristin undoubtedly fit in with the Brethren, despite her past, or perhaps because of it. The rough edges of lonerism and abuse by her Master were sloughed off as weeks bled into months and she became one of the Brethren, rather than an outsider looking in. Her transformation was the most dramatic because of this... her dark hair slowly grew out and the black dye gave way to a softer auburn. Even her clothing was transformed as she dropped the street-wise apparel that helped her blend in with crowds of teens in Stockholm and adopted the Bohemian, hand-made style that was a staple of the village. 

Paysha and Jean Louis were happier than ever, accepted in with their own kind and no longer nomads in hopeless wastelands. After the initial period of adjusting to the village lifestyle and warming up to the Brethren, they were given permission to build their own cottage. This house pushed the boundaries of the village towards the north and opened up more area in which to expand as new recruits arrived, which was not often, but just enough to make the population feel a bit more crowded. It was larger than the other cottages on account of their insistence that Halimah and Fadil live with them, at least until they were of an age where they could subside on their own. To Paysha, it was the family she and Jean Louis longed for, but would never have imagined they would have. 

Inanna remained the sole holdout. The loss of the Bedouin she considered her "tribe," made an indelible mark on her heart and soul, more than the atrocities of her youth and the slaughter by her progenitor. She did not socialize with the Brethren, save Vera, and chose not to live in one of the small cabins they made available for her, but in a cave she found in one of the hills not far from the village. It wasn't that she hated life there, or even that she did not get along with the rest of the inhabitants, but that the memories were overwhelming and she needed more time to absorb them and work through her emotions.

Despite Inanna's insistence on singling herself out in self-exile, she allowed visitors. Halimah was one of them - she made sure to check in on her adopted mother at least once a day, more often if she was able. Kristin was enthralled with Inanna and their common entrance into the breed of the Other, but the visitor that seemed to bring Inanna out of her hermit cave the best was Xavier. No one knew what they talked about, only that they were seen deep in conversation and often exited the cave to wander through the trees once the snow began to melt.

Despite the relationships of Paysha and Jean Louis, of Adam and Eve, romantic couplings among vampires were rare. Couples tended to get on each other's nerves and often parted with the intention of staying on separate sides of the globe. Even so, rumblings surmised a connection between Inanna and Xavier, as did whispers just outside of earshot as they passed by. They did nothing to encourage the assumptions, but they also failed to deny the rumors, and by the beginning of the next winter season, almost everyone treated them as two halves of an inseparable being.

The truth was more than the Brethren knew, more than they could handle, Inanna believed.


	18. Chapter 18

As Jean Louis, Paysha, Kristin, Inanna, Halimah, and Fadil found their rhythm in the village and time passed, they became comfortable in their roles. Fadil passed his first birthday and was well towards his second and he was growing like a weed. He learned to walk and was talking in clipped two to three word sentences as he interacted animatedly with his new tribe. Halimah transformed from a timid girl into a blossoming teenager as she celebrated her thirteenth birthday. Some of the villagers joked that it was a good thing there were no mortals around because they'd have to defend her, soon, but she also proved herself to be an intelligent girl as she learned a variety of subjects from the vampires. 

Paysha and Jean Louis loved acting as parents to Fadil. They coddled him and cuddled him, embracing each and every new stage of his growth and beaming as he tackled each obstacle presented to him. They made their house a home and it emanated so much warmth that other Brethren often stopped by just to bask in what they thought of as a mortal privilege, normally.

Inanna moved to another of the cabins at the request of Halimah, who chose to live with her. Though she protested, Inanna was charmed by the girl and eventually allowed her full re-integration back into the Brethren, her apprehension melted when she saw how well they treated her adopted daughter and the rest of her family. She maintained her cave, just in case, but she doubted she would need it again.

The biggest transformation belonged to Kristin. She stepped up and volunteered to lead with the elders of the Brethren and, given her background, they agreed. Greater responsibility meant she often did not see her friends, but she grew close with one of the others, a man named Theo who was Greek and, despite his vampire nature, still boasted bronze skin, dark, wavy hair, deep eyes that almost seemed black, and the bone structure of a God.

While both the children thrived, Inanna knew there would come a day, sooner than later for Halimah, that they would have to return to the human world. They needed to live the mortal experience, despite the tragedy of their childhoods, and the Brethren, hard as they could try, were not equipped to deal with the day to day reality of raising a teenager, dating, human sexuality. She would want to venture beyond the walls and cottages and find things that normal young women were drawn to, she would yearn for socialization, to be with others her age. 

Inanna called a meeting of the Brethren, save the children, to voice her concern. They gathered in the newly-constructed meeting hall, built at the behest of Xavier to accommodate their numbers more comfortably than the previously used circle of stones around the bonfire at the center of the village. "We need to find someone to care for Halimah and Fadil," Inanna proposed. "They need humans to raise them, not a bunch of Others." Before she encountered any dissension to the idea, she elaborated a plan, including a long list of reasons for the action. 

The Brethren were silent while they absorbed Inanna's pleas; they considered each angle with guarded thought. "They are safer here," Paysha argued, at last. "The human world has no clue about the particular struggles they may face because of their association with us." She didn't go into detail about the dangers they faces, but she knew Inanna was aware of them. "We can protect them." Even though she argued a moot point, Paysha felt the children already slipping from her. She and Jean Louis felt such joy as they raised Fadil that it seemed unfair to take him from them. It was understandable that Halimah go, given her age, but Paysha wanted to experience raising a child as much as she could, since she would never bear her own.

Jean Louis cupped his hand on her shoulder and nuzzled against her cheek once she sat down. "It's for the best," he whispered, but Paysha could sense the sadness in his voice. With Fadil, they felt like a natural family. 

Ultimately, it was decided that Inanna was correct. Despite Paysha's impassioned reasoning, they would find Halimah and Fadil an adoptive mortal family that would care for them. Paysha collapsed into tears at the tally of the vote and ran from the hall. Jean Louis let her leave and did not attempt to follow her because he knew she needed time by herself to think. He joined the rest of the Brethren as they continued on with the planning to rehome the children, however he only gave his input when asked his opinion, otherwise he chose to only listen and observe in case Paysha asked about the proceedings later.

For all the emotion coursing through her body, Paysha did not go directly home to the children. Instead, she found herself on the outskirts of the village as she escaped into the forest. She ran along the beaten trails until they ended and gave way to undergrowth and a thicker canopy of trees. The moss beneath her feet softened her footfalls and the shade added a slight chill to the air. She slowed down and walked even further into the wildwood, taking notice of the tiny details of the pattern of bark on the trees, the tiny fungi that grew everywhere she looked, the creatures that made up the music of the chaparral. It distracted her from the angst of loss and provided her with enough of an escape that she found herself following a small bunny to the edge of a crystal clear stream that ran almost overflowing with glacial water from the spring thaw.

She sat down on a downed tree at the bank and closed her eyes to absorb what she could from nature. The wood smelled of age from the dank composted floor that contained layer upon layer of fallen bark, pine needles, leaves, undergrowth and moss. A fresh breeze blew through the stream bed and with it, added a note of purity that was found nowhere else. Though it was not winter, the sun was far enough below the horizon that the sky was tinged only in golds and purples and the light that filtered through the canopy was not enough to harm her. She enjoyed the little warmth it provided on her skin that combated the cold that threatened to come when twilight emerged. Her thoughts were not lost; the worries she had for Fadil and Halimah were still present, but they intermingled with the sounds around her and began to for possibilities and alternatives to avoid completely losing them.

Paysha wasn't sure how long she was there, only that it was long enough for her to completely lose daylight. The snap of a twig caught her attention and her eyes startled open. She turned in the direction in which she heard it and saw nothing at first. As she waited, she heard nothing else. Just as she gave up and stood to leave and find her way home, she turned and came face to face with a woman who emerged from a thicket as silent as a doe.

The woman was dressed in modern clothing - jeans, a woven hat, mukluk boots - though her jacket was buckskin lined with wool that gave her the appearance of a hunter. She carried a crossbow on her shoulder and some arrows in a leather quiver that was slung cross her back. She appeared wild, yet polished, like she was some sprite that enjoyed her time in the wilderness, but appreciated a good cocktail served in a fine crystal goblet at some high-faluting soiree in the city. 

"Excuse me!" Paysha exclaimed as she hopped out of the woman's way, expecting that she wanted to continue on up the bank of the stream.

The woman did not move. She smiled, her lips curled softly upward, her eyes flashed with recognition. "Hello, sister," she said, her voice breathy and low. "Do you not know who I am?"

Paysha was taken aback. For a moment, she could not speak - her lips and tongue paralyzed by surprise. "Who are you?" she finally managed, albeit shakily.

"I am Samarra," came the answer.

Everything clicked. The weapon, the look of her matched the description given by the elders, the way she carried herself. "Samarra," Paysha gasped. She pressed her hand against the tree behind her to gain some balance as her head began to feel light. "You're supposed to be dead, according to the legends."

Samarra threw her head back and laughed, her fracture echoing through the trees. "I am definitely not dead," she said when the humor of the situation wore off. "Whose legends are these, anyway?"

"The elders, I guess," Paysha answered. "Xavier told them you were gone when he returned.

Her face was suddenly somber. "Xavier is a fool," Samarra sighed. "He is a poor, romantic fool." She noticed the bewildered look on Paysha's face and continued. "Come, let's find the village and I will tell you what happened." 

While they walked, Samarra explained that they had found places to seek shelter, but as the years wore on, the explorers grew more and more despondent. That is, all of the explorers except Xavier and herself. One by one, the others departed the group, either by choice, by force, or by final death, until they were the only two left. By that point, Xavier had become enamored of her and begged her to stop their journey and find somewhere where they could survive, just the two of them. Samarra was less than thrilled at his advances and began to push away until she got to the point where she could no longer stand his companionship. "He was a simpering boy that thought he could buy my affections with material goods and forgot who I was," she explained. Samarra sent him back to the Brethren with instructions to wait for her word, but, as she found out from Paysha, that message was never delivered. 

"No one said anything about a message," Paysha confirmed, "Not even Vera, who I knows held great affection for you."

The mention of Vera drew a tear from Samarra's eye. "Yes, Vera," she sighed, "How is she?"

"She's doing well." Paysha wasn't sure what, if anything she should say about the village. She was overcome with apprehension that she should even guide Samarra to it. "How did you find us, anyhow?" She tried to hide the sudden suspicion in her voice.

Samarra stopped walking and turned toward Paysha. "I've been looking for centuries," she replied, her voice dropped to a serious tone. She reached out to touch Paysha's arm. "I was so disappointed when I found the compound near Nepal was abandoned and reclaimed by the mountain vegetation. There was no indication where anyone had gone, no clue for me to follow." She took a deep breath, then let it out and looked Paysha straight in the eye. "I found your trail in Tangier and followed it. I'd heard of you and your man, Jean Louis, and I hoped you would lead me to them, that you would lead me here." Before Paysha could get a word in edgewise, Samarra continued to explain. "Don't worry," she tried to calm, "A vampire trail is entirely different than one that a mortal may leave. Because I am a hunter, I was able to track it, through your lingering aura, your scent, but also the memories of people who encountered you, no matter how minuscule the moment."

Paysha shifted on her feet. "I'm surprised you didn't run into Inanna while you were tracking us. It seems you both had the same idea," she commented as she started to walk again.

"Inanna?" Samarra gasped. She sounded like she was punched in the chest. "She's alive?"

There was no reason to doubt that Samarra also knew Inanna, they were both Brethren, but Samarra's reaction surprised Paysha. "Oh, so you remember her?" she quipped.

"Remember her?" Samarra was incredulous as she grasped Paysha's arm and turned her around to face her. "Remember her? Of course I remember her! She's my mother!"


	19. Chapter 19

When Samarra arrived in the village, the Brethren was understandably shaken. They thought she was dead and, when the initial shock subsided, were certain she abandoned them, along with the party she'd left with. Xavier said nothing to assuage their suspicions, though they subsided when Samarra told her side of the story. 

Inanna was incredulous and uncertain about the appearance of her long lost progeny, but the relief that fell over her was more than enough to push out any negative thoughts or uncouth emotions. She welcomed Samarra with open arms. "I am so relieved you are alive and my heart is full again," she said as she embraced the woman.

The fierce hunter and warrior melted in her arms. "Inanna," Samarra whispered, "I've missed you. Every mile I traveled, I hoped I would find you again."

Their reunion was short-lived as Samarra was pulled away from her and virtually interrogated by a dozen vampires with a hunger for the details of her journey. She smiled and shrugged as she was drug into the meeting hall away from Inanna. 

As soon as Samarra was out of earshot, Paysha turned her attention to Xavier. "Why would you let everyone think she was dead?" she spat. "Why would you do that?"

Jean Louis tried to staunch the vitriol that emanated from her by grasping her shoulders, leaning close to her and softly saying, "Come, now, darling, let him alone while we check on the children." His words served as a salve to her and she calmed down.

Xavier shook off Paysha's question with an uncomfortable shiver. "She was dead to me," he answered coldly. He looked at Inanna for some sort of validation and she turned away from him. 

"That was a despicable manipulation," she told him, her voice void of emotion. "You played on everyone's sympathy and made them believe something that just was not true." She stepped closer to him and extended an accusatory finger. "I trusted you and you didn't even have the common courtesy to tell me that Samarra might be alive, that she left you and went on her own." 

He shivered. "Inanna," he pleaded as he approached her with arms outstretched, "I meant no harm by my actions. I was in despair."

Inanna backed away from him and he could see the apprehension in her eyes. "I just don't know if I can trust you," she said.

Jean Louis loosened his embrace on Paysha and drew Inanna towards him. "It'll be alright," he whispered, "We'll take care of you."

She nodded her head. "Thank you, Jean Louis," she replied, "You and Paysha have never betrayed my trust." Her eyes concentrated on Xavier as her last comment, meant as a jab at him, hit its mark. 

"I know when I'm not wanted," Xavier leered at the trio before he turned and ran from the village square. They watched as he disappeared behind one of the cottages on the opposite side.

Paysha let out the breath she was holding. "He's got to go lick his wounds," she sighed. "I'm sure someone his age has a sort of resilience that I have not yet attained."

Once the excitement of Samarra's return died down, Xavier's omission was forgotten and conversation in the village returned to the fate of the children. Though she wanted to fight it, Paysha realized that Inanna was correct - they were mortals and they needed other mortals raising them. They needed normal childhoods, at least from that point forward. She acquiesced and left the children in the care of Kristin and Theo as she, Jean Louis and Inanna made preparations to find a good family for them and left the village to find them.

Though their knowledge of Norwegian was limited, they were able to recruit the help of a local from the nearest village that spoke English as well as French - a retired fisherman who lived in a weather-worn shack close to the peak of a fjord. With his assistance, they found a family that lived in Oslo, a mother, father, and a son who was 6 years old, who were a good match for the Bedouin children and agreed to adopt them, sight unseen. 

The arrangements were made and it seemed so final to Paysha, even though she knew they would receive updates about the well-being of Halimah & Fadil. The kids would be prepared, pack their things, and escorted to Oslo by Inanna. They felt it best to have her take them because she was the least emotional of the trio and wouldn't break down upon losing them. 

When they returned to the village, it was deserted, save for Vera, who emerged from the underbrush near the entrance to meet them. She ushered them back into the cover of the thicket while holding a finger over her lips indicating that she also needed their silence. "Everyone is in hiding in the cave," she whispered, her lips barely moving. Before anyone could ask why, she added, "He's here."

While Paysha and Jean Louis held questions in their eyes, Inanna knew immediately of whom Vera spoke. "How did he find us?" she asked.

Vera shook her head, but before she could answer, a figure rose behind them and long arms grasped the shoulders of Inanna and pulled her backwards. It caused the backs of her feet to catch on a tree root and she stumbled, crashing into her assailant and then landing with a thud on the ground by the stranger's feet. She looked up and tried to focus on the face that loomed above her, but the darkness of the forest and the twilight above it impeded her view.

"Hello, lovely," a voice boomed from above. It resonated within her. It was dark, low, and carried with it a tinge of cruelty and evil. It was him.

Inanna shuddered and gasped, "Matias," under her breath. 

He lifted her up from her seat by grasping her forearms. The strength of his grip was uncomfortable and she squirmed to make him release her, despite knowing already that it was a futile effort. Matias turned her around in a flash, the speed of which made her head spin. "There's no getting away from me, Darling," he growled, baring his teeth at her in a menacing grin, "Not any more. You've escaped me for too long."

"How did you find me?" She tried not to let her fear control her, but her eyes betrayed her as the terror she felt was reflected in them. 

Matias chuckled and his deep voice ricocheted off the trees around them. "I followed you and waited," he growled. "I found you in the desert." A chill crawled across Inanna's spine as he continued. "I knew you would flee when threatened, so I slaughtered the tribe you were with. I drank the blood of their young, snapped the necks of their elders, and murdered even the most virtuous of them in cold blood."

Her breath became ragged as she hung like a doll, caught in his grip. "No," she gasped. "You were the dark man." Inanna realized she'd secluded herself for so long that she was numbed to the sensation of him. Her silent vigil was so all-encompassing, his evil could not permeate it, until now. "It's all my fault." A wave of fear and revulsion overcame her and she began to kick in an attempt to get away from him.

"Your action is useless," he huffed. "I am stronger than you." 

He was so intent on his torture of Inanna that he failed to recognize those who were with her. Jean Louis crept silently behind Matias and prepared to pounce while both Paysha and Vera flanked him, ready to grab Inanna and escape into the forest. In a flash, the three were upon him and their combined power was enough for his grip on Inanna to loosen. He dropped her and she ran into the forest, nearly flying between the trees in her escape.

While Matias was stunned, the other three took advantage of the situation and followed Inanna before he regained his composure. They could hear him behind them and felt the rage he encompassed as he trailed them. The rage grew with each step and every missed opportunity. "You will not escape me!" he screamed. "You will all fall at my hands."

Inanna was aware of nothing other than the forest speeding past her as she ran and the feeling of terror that propelled her. Her first instinct was to run to the cave and hope the underground system was complex enough that she was not at risk of exposing the rest of the Brethren to Matias' evil. She eschewed that thought and continued on past the opening in favor of discovering another place to hide. She passed the cave and hoped Matias would not look for her there as she continued to run. Due to recent rains, her feet left prints in the mud and a cursory glance behind her showed that they continued behind her. Once the ground sloped up and became mossy, she slowed down. There was another opening in the hillside, one that she hadn't noticed before, that was halfway hidden by overhanging ivy and overgrown brush. Inanna crossed her fingers and ducked inside. She heard footfalls from the way she came and poked her head out just enough to see her companions. 

Jean Louis saw a hand emerge from the damp hillside and wave at him. "Here," he said, trying to keep his voice down as he alerted Paysha and Vera. They nodded and all three followed Inanna into the new cavern.

"You know Matias," she whispered, her voice filled with disappointment. "How?"

Paysha moved closer to her and held her face in her hands. "He tried to recruit us in Stockholm," she answered, "But we thought he was dead."

Inanna shook her head. "There's only one way to kill him," she sighed. "He's too stubborn to die my anything other than extraordinary means." She took a deep breath. "How did he find you in Stockholm?"

"Through Kristin," replied Jean Louis. "She found us and followed us before directing us to his lair." The plot out loud was almost laughable, he thought, it was such a caricature of every bad villain story he grew up with. 

A noise from outside stopped the conversation. They held their breath and listened as the soft crunch of wet twigs and slurps of sucking mud moved away from them. "He can't feel us here, can he?" asked Vera. "Some of us have that sense, you know?"

"No," Inanna shook her head, "He is not like that. He is pure evil, a sadistic man who finds his own twisted entertainment in torture and sucking the life from anyone and everyone in his wake." She turned to Jean Louis. "Could Kristin have somehow told him we were here?"

Paysha was quick to defend the girl. "Kristin is as innocent as we all are. She was glamoured by him and her mind twisted by visions he put in her head to keep her complacent."

"If you vouch for her," Inanna said, "that is all I can ask for."


	20. Chapter 20

No one felt safe returning to their homes, so they continued to occupy the cave until Matias was no longer a threat, whether that meant he was neutralized or confirmed dead. There were several chambers that they made comfortable with what little they'd brought, but the biggest concern for the Brethren was whether they could find enough food for Halimah and Fadil until an attempt could be made to whisk them away from the danger. 

At the bright age of 12, now, the precipice of womanhood, Halimah was bright and astute. She volunteered to hunt during daylight for food, her reason being that she was in the least danger during that dime because of Matias' nocturnal needs. Samarra volunteered to help. Though there was some disagreement that she could go, she ultimately convinced the others that she would be safe if she covered herself enough, because she'd done just that plenty of other times while on her own. To Inanna, just knowing that Samarra would be there, a weight was lifted from her. She trusted Samarra, just as she trusted Halimah. They were two of a kind.

The two of them left the cave just after dawn. Halimah was wrapped warmly in order to fight the morning chill, Samarra was covered to fight the rising sun. Both were armed with bows and arrows as well as bags crafted from the clothing of others in which they would carry their prey and the berries they were able to scavenge. "Be careful," Inanna pleaded as they left, "Both of you."

While Samarra and Halimah were gone, the rest of the occupants slept. Their nocturnal sleep patterns were unaffected by the evenings spent in a cold, dark, damp cave unable to do much other than talk. Stories were told by the elders, whether they were true or not was a subject of debate, and the younger vampires enjoyed the camaraderie. Fadil fussed only when he was hungry. His growling stomach made do with whatever his caregivers could scrounge up within the confines of the cave or the immediate opening, which meant he subsided on a diet of edible leaves from the ferns and bushes nearby and bugs. He wanted more, he craved more, but he understood that, until Samarra and Halimah returned, there was nothing else. 

While they were expected back in hours, the hours bled into each other, then turned into days. The anxiety inside the cavern was palatable and unspoken. The Brethren were afraid that all the precautions the women took to avoid Matias were failures and that they would never see them again.

In the darkness of the cave system and the thick atmosphere of uncertainty, no one noticed that Xavier was also missing. Not only did they not notice he was gone, but they also failed to realize that he disappeared the night Samarra returned, and no one seemed to care. Even Inanna, who he was thick as thieves with was so distracted by the return of Matias and the absence of the two who were her daughters, did not remember the last time she saw him. What they didn't know was that he was nearby, that he stalked them and waited. 

Xavier was hurt by Samarra's accusations when she returned. He longed for the Brethren to see him as the powerful being he was. He longed for the power that was rightfully his with the status he should have as an elder. He seethed with anger that his contribution to his fellow vampires was not acknowledged. The night he left, he put his plans in motion.

The long nights when Xavier talked with Inanna, she told him about her beginnings and her progenitor, but she never mentioned his name. When he heard about how Kristin was turned, he put things together and he journeyed to Stockholm in search of the vampire that was, in his mind, all powerful and capable of the greatest destruction. Matias encompassed the deep, sinister desires that Xavier felt, especially towards the object of his affection.

His imaginings did not equal, nor prepare, him for what he found in Stockholm. Xavier found Matias in the same decrepit warehouse that Kristin described, but he was nowhere near the mythical powerhouse he'd imagined. Instead, Matias was a shell of his fierce self, defeated, depressed, feeding off the vermin that chose to enter his domain, whether it be human or rodent.

The warehouse was filthy, strewn with excrement and the putrid remains of Matias's feeding habits. Matias resided in a single room, most likely an old office from whatever facility was housed there. It was windowless and musty, with the sour smell of urine that emanated from an old, stained mattress that was shoved in the corner.

At first, Matias shied away from the unwanted and unwelcome visitor, but Xavier was persistent. He plied the ancient's trust with offerings of clean, fresh blood, in hopes it would invigorate and cleanse Matias's system of the toxic residue of his desperate diet. The regimen worked. Within weeks, he was back to the power of his former self, a transformation that both frightened and tantalized Xavier. 

They began plotting, using details Xavier provided about the Brethren, Inanna in particular, and Samarra. His revenge began to take shape, carefully molded out of the evil that lurked behind the eyes of Matias, the man, the monster, Inanna referred to as her progenitor. Xavier knew that Matias held a deep resentment towards her and that was the single motivating factor for his choosing Matias as an ally. 

What the Brethren did not see was the presence of Xavier as Matias laid siege upon their homes, as he threatened death and began to pillage their village. Xavier hid in the trees, camouflaged in the canopy of thick evergreens. He watched his fellow Other as they screamed and fled, all the while holding a sick hope in his heart that he would see Samarra attempt to defend them and end up with her heart torn from her chest by the monster he unleashed. Instead, Samarra was not to be found. Neither was Inanna.

Matias searched for Inanna as he reigned in terror over her people, her Brethren. He could feel their fear and he expected a hero to step forward and attempt to be a savior, but none appeared. Their thoughts were not of Inanna, but on children as they hoped they were safe. It confused Matias. He was not aware that there were any humans that lived among the undead, let alone unharmed and beloved and the thought boggled him because, in his mind, the two could not coexist without violence and bloodshed. The realization that Inanna was most likely with the mortal children washed over him and, once the other villagers escaped and their homes were clear, he retreated to the trees to wait for her imminent return.

It was past the place in the tree canopy that Xavier spied Samarra and Halimah as they returned from the hunt. The forest was dark enough to conceal him as he swooped down behind them and wrapped his arms tightly around Samarra. Her hands were full of the animals she killed and, even though she dropped the carcasses the moment he grabbed her, she was unable to fight back. Halimah's fits pummeled his spine, but were more of an annoyance than anything. He kicked his foot back and sent her flying to the ground on the path behind her with a muffled thud. She cried out and Samarra tried to struggle, to no avail. "Samarra," Xavier hissed in her ear, "It's no wonderful to see you again."

"Xavier," she growled, "I should have known. Are you in league with Matias, now?" Her voice was equal parts spiteful and exasperated. "I should have expected this from you after what you did to me before."

Samarra's words bit deep and Xavier's only recourse was to lean close and sink his teeth into her neck. He drew blood, not from a need to feed, but as an act of aggression. His bite was hard and and she yelped as the white heat of pain shot through her nerves. "I'm sorry," she said, her words coming out breathless. "I'm sorry. Just, please, do not hurt Hali." 

He pulled his teeth from her flesh, but a deep voice from behind them boomed, "Not so fast." Xavier spun around, dragging Samarra with him, and saw Matias there in the middle of the path, Halimah's limp form draped across his arms. The girl's skin was pallid, her eyes closed as though in repose, but they knew she was not dead because a shallow breath was present in the rise and fall of her chest.

"No!" Samarra screamed. She wished it was loud enough that the others heard her, but she knew they were far enough away that it was almost impossible. 

Matias chuckled, his eyes sparkling with evil, the timbre of his laughter steeped in darkness. "She's a delightful little delicacy," he mused. "You should try her." 

Xavier forgot himself and let go, the tantalizing thought of Hali's sanguine life force too tantalizing to resist. Samarra took advantage of his lack of self control and threw her head back in a sharp crack as their skulls met. She ignored the instant pain and the dull ache that was bound to follow and turned on Xavier. In an act that she though was poetic justice, she leaned into him in a flash, grasped his neck in her teeth like a lioness with her prey, and ripped out his throat. He had no time to react and his eyes went lifeless as she grasped his head with her hands and tore it the rest of the way off before throwing it into the bushes.

She turned her wrath on Matias. Despite the difference in size, Samarra had an advantage in strength. She pulled everything she had together and lunged. Her goal was to retrieve Halimah, but if she had to slaughter Matias to do so, she was up for the challenge. To her surprise, Matias let go of the girl as soon as Samarrah had her hands on her. He flashed a cunning grin and disappeared before she realized he was gone. She knew it wasn't the last dealing with him, but was relieved that Halimah was saved.

Bloodied and unable to carry both the girl and the food they hunted, Samarra returned to the caves. She was exhausted as she entered and collapsed against the inner wall. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "Matias. Xavier. We were attacked."

Inanna was the first to her side and she scooped up the limp body of Halimah. "Oh, Hali," she moaned as she cradled the girl, "What did he do to you?" She scanned the girl's bare flesh and spied the unmistakable marks near her carotid artery, though they were already beginning to heal. "We just need to replenish her, is all," she whispered with a smile.

"The food is gone," Samarra said. "We lost it when we escaped and I don't think it's safe to go back out."

The others that gathered around them nodded in agreement. Inanna shook her head and lifted her own wrist to open a vein. "You misunderstand, sweet child," she said, the words flowing like lavender honey, sweet and calming. There was no resistance from any of the Brethren as she turned the reddened wound toward Halimah and pressed it against her lips. "Drink," she whispered as she flexed her fingers to allow droplets to form and run into the girl's mouth.

Arguments could have been made that Halimah was too young, that at the tender age of 12, she had yet to experience life enough that she would make wise decisions as an immortal, but none were presented. As young as she was, as green and as new, everyone knew that the only way to save her was by changing her. It was common knowledge among the Brethren that Halimah was a survivor, that, in her short mortal life, she was more experienced in the trials of the world than some of the vampires who were adults when they were turned. 

It took a few moments, but as the liquid ran down Hali's throat, she began to awaken. A tingling went through every fiber of her being and she moved her hands to grasp Inanna's wrist and hold it closer. Like a baby, she began to suck, feeling the warmth that began to radiate within her, until Inanna pulled away from her with a cluck. Halimah opened her eyes and looked at the crowd around her with concern on their faces. "What happened" she asked.

Proud, Inanna answered, "You are one of us, now."


End file.
